On one of my first nights in Sihanoukville, after having some drinks at various bars, I found myself back at Utopia chatting with a lanky Canadian dude. As it has happened on more than a bunch of occasions with Canadians, some American bashing just started pouring uncontrollably out of his mouth. Now, when I get into these conversations with people about why American is so awful, I have a lot to agree with. I disagree with a lot of our foreign policy (most importantly), I think we could have more equality when it comes to gay rights, all of our statistics about how many uninsured people we have in poverty, etc. Yes, there is a lot to criticize, but it gets hard when people barrage me with criticism in a social setting because I feel some weird obligation to defend America. Quite often the generalizations people bring up are outlandish, but somehow based in a small truth. Everyone carries a gun in America. There’s no gay marriage in America. People can shoot you if you are trespassing. Your border patrol can shoot illegal immigrants. The list goes on and on, and it leaves me tired of explaining the nuances of our legal system and the fact that laws vary widely from state to state. Anyway, as soon as this Canadian guy hears that I’m from Seattle, he says, “Oh, I don’t like Seattle.” I was surprised, but intrigued, because people rarely say a bad word about it. I was not offended, just curious.
“Really? What don’t you like about it?”
“I don’t know, I just don’t like it. It’s boring.”
“Oh, ok, did you go there to visit?”
“Yeah, I was just there for a few days.”
“When?”
“I was fourteen. I went with my parents. Yeah, it was just lame. There was nothing to do.”
I don’t think I need to explain further. I didn’t bother arguing, I just laughed to myself. With that bit of friendly introduction out of the way, he felt it was now time to talk about how messed up my country is. I let him do his thing, though it always feels awkward to feel attacked directly and then to agree. That is probably why I naturally feel the urge to defend America even when I know the person is right.
“Your education system is so messed up. You guys don’t even know what the Khmer Rouge is because they don’t teach it in your history classes,” he said.
“No, that’s not true,” I lied. “I learned about it my high school history class.”
I don’t know why I lied, but I tried to explain that not every high school education is the same, and if you have a good teacher, you might learn a lot more about certain issues. To be fair, there is a fair contingent of Canadians that rejects the anti-American sentiments and doesn’t bother with the whole Canadian flag on their backpack to alert everyone that they are not Americans.
Another night I was hanging out with the regular crew from the hostel and we met a couple that had just spent three months traveling together in India where they had met. The guy was German and the girl was Israeli. We spent a good portion of the night with them, dancing to the dub step that the Irish DJ was spinning. Something was weird about the German guy, though. He seemed quiet and pouting, while girlfriend was having the time of her life and he ended up leaving before her. The next day, as I was walking to the beach, I heard someone call out to me from inside a hostel bar that I was walking past. I looked inside and saw the German guy sitting at the bar, waving me in. I sat down and he ordered a beer for me. I was trying to catch the last hour of sunlight on the beach, but I figured I could join him for a beer. He did not look well. I barely knew him, but he looked like he needed someone to talk to. For a few minutes he explained that stuff between him and his girlfriend weren’t going so well. Now, this whole relationship drama is not the interesting part of my story, it’s just the cause of it. Pretty soon his friend, an Aussie guy who they had been traveling with for the past few weeks, showed up at the bar, and ordered a new round of beers. He seemed fully committed to helping his friend get over his problems with substance abuse. Then he asked the bartender for a rolling paper and proceeded to roll a massive spliff for them to share. Pretty soon a Cambodian guy arrived on a motorbike with a paper bag. He handed the bag to the Aussie along with a couple bucks of change. Out of the bag spilled a variety of blister packs that the guy had picked up at the pharmacy. You can get pretty much anything in Cambodia without a prescription, and at very low prices. He had gotten what looked like Hunter S. Thompson’s “whole galaxy of multi-colored uppers, downers, screamers and laughers.” Valiums, vicodins, tranquilizers, ritalins, and who knows what else. He started passing them around and the German obediently popped into his mouth whatever was handed to him. I stuck to the beer, but within the hour that I sat with them, this guy was absolutely destroyed. I have never witnessed a anyone turn into such a heaping mess of a person in such a short amount of time. The Australian was doing fine, but then again, he didn’t have to deal with harsh emotions of a potential breakup with, as the German put it, “the love of my life”. The German had ordered a couple of small baguettes with butter and then some fries with ketchup. He quickly went from eating like a normal person to giggling with teary eyes, mashing the food all around his plate, mixing it all with ketchup and butter, and smearing it in and around his mouth with both hands. He could barely function and the Aussie was just giggling along with him. I have seen women and drugs wreak havoc on people’s lives or mental states, but never so quickly! This guy was an experienced traveler, but I imagined he was going to wake up alone soon, and feel very, very, very far from home, and extremely lost. I decided I had to bail now, as it would only get worse, and I needed a swim before the sun went down. I just hoped the Aussie could stay sane enough to watch out for this poor man’s safety.
I was pretty naïve about the drug use among travelers in Cambodia. In fact, I have probably always been naïve about the drug use among travelers in most places that I’ve been. As someone who often travels alone and is not in the market for drugs, it makes sense. Looking back on Central America, especially after hearing other stories from people that had been around those parts, I imagine a lot more travelers than I realized were regularly indulging in the high quality, easily accessible cocaine. Southeast Asian countries generally have such strict drug laws (including the death penalty for trafficking in several countries) that most travelers that take the risk probably keep it extra quiet. Cambodia, however, was a different story. Marijuana was actually legal in the country until 1997. It was sold openly in markets for dirt cheap and was even cooked into some traditional dishes. Although it is illegal now, it is still widely available, cheap and doesn’t carry a high risk of cops giving you a hard time about it. In fact there are a few infamous places in the bigger cities that serve “Happy Pizzas” and don’t seem to face any legal repercussions (see Anthony Bourdain’s episode in Cambodia where he not so discreetly has several of them delivered to his hotel). Harder drugs, though, are also much more popular than I first realized. Back in the day, Cambodia was famous for its opium dens. As far as I know they don’t exist anymore, at least not like they used to. Eventually heroin became very popular and was the choice drug for expat English teachers in the 90’s. For the price and purity, it far surpasses anything obtainable in the west. It is often sold to ignorant foreigners as “cocaine”. Because it is so strong, snorting it is actually a very popular way to get high. It’s potency is dangerous and every year a few travelers die from this stuff in the Boeng Kak area of Phnom Penh where I had been staying. More recently, though, a drug known locally as “yaba” has taken the region by storm and travelers have been getting their fix in large numbers too. Basically it is Methamphetamine mixed with caffeine. The interesting thing about meth outside of America is that it doesn’t have the same white trash/hillbilly connotation that we have here. It’s a dirty, cheap, depressing drug that is completely unglamorous. On the other hand, in Europe and other places, it has become much more popular among young people as a sort of party drug. It didn’t seem obviously prevalent among my friends in Sihanoukville, but there were a couple times when I heard casual mention of it, or there was that one guy who seemed especially energetic and whacked out that made me suspicious. Cambodia is the kind of semi-lawless place where foreigners come with an anything goes kind of attitude. And I haven’t even commented on the prostitution. It seemed like a good thing that my stay in these parts was limited.
One idea that was really instilled in me while staying in Sihanoukville was that it is really hard to stereotype people by where they are from. I mean, this is not that innovative of an idea at all, but I did feel that I was gaining a better sense of people based on where they traveled rather than where they were from. Sure, I love to stereotype Aussies as fun-loving, but often ignorant party animals, or Israelis as the least adventurous eaters ever, or French guys as interesting people, but boring to have some drinks with. Yes, these stereotypes are fun, but it makes no sense to stereotype these people when you have only met them while traveling. I started noticing in Sihanoukville that I can understand a lot more about someone based on where they have been traveling. For the people in Cambodia that had been in India, I could tell they had different qualities. Not because they had been to India, but because they had chosen to go there. I feel that the majority of the people visiting Sihanoukville were just out to party, not necessarily to explore the intricacies of culture, and that was their MO for traveling in general. This idea became even more pronounced later, when I was in Kolkata and met people from, for example, the UK or Australia, who did not drink heavily and seemed far more intellectual or spiritually minded than their counterparts back on the beach. It also made me think back to the people I had met in Africa. They often shared a lot of characteristics of being cynical, especially when it came to any sort of aid work or charity. If I was going to tell some traveler in Africa that I was in the Peace Corps, volunteering, or an aid worker, I would expect them to roll their eyes and get into a confrontational conversation, or at least insult me behind my back. I was almost nervous to tell people in Asia about any of my volunteer plans, and would have defenses and justifications for my actions already loaded. They never came though. Everyone, at least on the surface, seemed to have a positive view of that, and thought it was a great thing to do.
Because I have always avoided the most touristy spots when traveling, especially if they have a Spring Break feel, it was weird for me to spend a good chunk of my time in Cambodia in Sihanoukville. I felt guilty because Cambodia is really a gem of a country that I felt deserved to be more thoroughly explored, understood and appreciated. At the same time, I had to treat it as just another component of my entire trip. While we were in Africa, which was mostly in dry, hot, inland places, we longed for a fun beach town to have a good time on. Months later, I felt like I was fulfilling that desire. As much as it was not the most enlightening place by any means, I still learned a lot. I learned a lot about people, travelers, traveling, relationships, friendships, etc. I didn’t end up feeling like I had completely wasted my time in Cambodia. It was just a bit of a shame that this experience in a community of International travelers had to distract me from such a great country.
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