Kampot province - The Wedding

Day 22 - Thursday, March 27

Part 1: The alien.

Warning: this is a very long entry, but it's the highlight of my trip.

A taxi with Ladin and her sister (and of course, a driver) picks me up at 5.30am; that way we can stay ahead of the midday heat...
We head out of Phnom Penh and make our first pit stop at a gas station only after a couple of hours. The roads are getting narrower and dustier, villages along the road are getting smaller. Another hour later - or perhaps more - I'm loosing track of time, we stop in front of an open house in a tiny village. Ladin's sister picks up her kid here, who stayed at her grandparents. The villagers stare at me; I guess there's not many tourists coming here...

A bit later we arrive at our destination in the countryside. There's a rather large hut raised above the ground by less than 2 metres, flanked by a smaller hut near a tiny and dirty pond. Everywhere there are mango trees and other fruit bearing trees (unknown to me), as well as larger patches of bamboo fields. Beyond the hut are dry rice paddies and some bushes. A water well marks the end of the ehm, village (more a community I think). In the center of the area is a larger open space covered with reed and leafs, which will later turn out to be a makeshift dance floor. There's also a few cows, pigs, chicken, ducks and dogs running about.
At our arrival - late morning - the feast is already getting up to speed. More than hundred people are preparing food, playing music, some play boardgames, some just chill in hammocks and do nothing (mostly men). Quite a lot of kids are doing what kids at wedding parties do best: yelling, running and playing, and generally having loads of fun.

As I step out of the car and unload my red-dusted baggage, I suddenly become the centre of attention. Everyone stops what they're doing and stares at me. There's a strange silence and an ever-so-slight tension in the air. This is not a complete surprise; I imagine that Ladin didn't have the chance of telling her family that a stranger was coming with her, and she tells me that most of these people have never seen a barang before, especially not the kids... I feel a bit uncomfortable and not sure what to do next. An older woman steps out of the crowd towards me and greets me in the traditional Cambodian way. I do my best to return the greeting. I hear a few laughs. She calls a few guys, whom then pick up my luggage to carry it inside the hut. The woman turns out to be Ladin's mother. She is very gentle and sweet, and she introduces me to some of the family members and some of the elderly of the community. No one but Ladin speaks English here, but that isn't an obstacle for communicating in the friendliest way I've ever witnessed. A few of the kids gather around me and start pulling my clothes and my arms. I start talking to them and they begin to laugh out loud, almost hysterically... the ice is broken. Tension is relieved, everybody relaxes again. I'm being led up the stairs, inside the hut. There is one big space - the centre of the community I suppose, and a very small room next to it, separated by an open doorway with a curtain. For this special occasion, the small room serves as a makeshift changeover and make-up room, and my bags are stowed here as well. There's no furniture in the larger room, besides a small cabinet with some silver plates with roasted duck and chicken. Some wonderfully colourful carpets are spread over the wooden floor. The dusk of the room is broken by dusty rays of light shimmering through some tiny windows. In the corner opposite from the steps a few older musicians are chanting and playing instruments unknown to me...

Part 2: Killer breakfast.

Ladin asks me if I want to take some photos, an opportunity I certainly won't let pass by, so I ready my gear. Back downstairs, a man in a bright blue T-shirt grabs me and guides me to a table with some food. I bump my head a few times when I make my way under the hut, much to the amusement of everyone. I must be at least a head taller than most folks here... The blue T-shirt man - Ladin's uncle, if I remember well - has appointed himself as my official guide, although he doesn't speak one word of English. I think he's already a bit drunk, otherwise he's just a very enthusiastic man. More probably he's simply both... I sit down at the table amongst some other men, and he shows me what and how to eat. I didn't have breakfast (nor lunch) yet and I'm quite hungry (and more so, very thirsty), but I'm not sure if I can or may eat the ehm, food presented to me. Is it safe for me ? What is it ? Why is the food staring at me !? Oh well, I can't be bothered with my health right now, and it would be really impolite to refuse. Plus, everyone is staring intensely at me, wondering what I am going to do next. So, better not loose face here and just dig in and hope for the best. I pick some lumps of unknown origin - something fatty with part of a duck's leg I think - and dip it in the green sauce with suspiciously red bits, before mixing it with the sticky rice. People are nodding, tilting their head in expectation of some miracle to happen... The stuff is really, really spicey, and I almost have to cough. Exactly what they were expecting of course! They all laugh, so now I have to wash it down with a drink. Ladin's uncle passes me a large glass - it's so smudged and dirty that I am now quite sure I'm going to get sick, unless of course that milky white drink is some sort of home-brewn alcohol which instantly is going to kill any possible germs. And indeed, it must be rice wine. My guess ? 150 proof. At least.
I take a big swig and - brave as I am - a second one; I get applauded with convincing enthusiasm. Apparently I have passed my rite of passage with grace, so my glass is filled to the top again, and more food is being brought on. With every sip I take, I get applause and more men are joining our company. Women and children are standing aside, commenting (I assume) and watching me. I try hard to keep my cool, although this is by far my most brutal breakfast ever. People are jerking my sleeves, and try to put things in my mouth. They keep talking and babbling to me, and the only thing I can think of doing, is echo their words, much to great hilarity. Ladin kinda saves my ass and pulls me away to make some photos.
As I start taking photos of the kids and show them the LCD on the back, absolute chaos breaks loose. Nearly everyone drops what he or she is doing, to see what all that fuzz is about and I get enclosed with kids and others whom all want me to take a portrait of them. I gladly oblige as much as possible, but my camera and lens are constantly pulled and twisted in all directions. Within seconds my gear looks like it's just pulled out of the garbage, but I remain friendly and understanding, blindly trusting the Canon designers. That sweat you see on my face is definitely heat-induced... (yeah, right)

Part 3: The bride & groom. The kids. The walk.

Then the bride comes down from the house, dressed in a very beautiful traditional Cambodian wedding dress. Pure silk, brocade, and lovely, deep colours. She's been made up rather heavily, with bright red lips in a very pronounced shape. Her long black hair is pulled up and carries a diamond tiara. A beautiful necklace and matching earrings complete her astonishing outfit. As lavish the bride is, as understated the groom is. A simple white shirt and black pants will do.
I'm instantly being promoted to wedding photographer, and what better place is there than under the willow bordering the pond ? No one cares I'm standing in the middle of some kid's fresh poop - no toilets nor bathroom here - and actually, I don't care either. This is just too enjoyable to be distracted by such minor details. It's just past midday and the sunlight is way too bright to get any decent shots, but I can only do my best in my new-found job...

All the time I'm being surrounded by a bunch of kids. We play a few games, I show them some neat tricks and shoot a couple of pics. Some of the kids are a bit shy at first, but after a while they can't suppress their curiosity anymore and join the circle around me. Some braver ones take the lead and become almost frank. They challenge me by throwing little pebbles, twigs and other harmless stuff at me, just to see how I react. They put ice in my sandals, leafs in my shirt and various other things in my ears and collar. Pull the hair on my arms, twist en bend my fingers to see if I can do "apsara-fingers" just like all of them (nope, I can't), and so on... We're having great fun; I don't care about the relentless heat anymore.
When I get up and move about the compound, some of the elders watch my every step suspiciously. But the more I take photos and show them, the more relaxed the atmosphere becomes. After a while all tension has vaporised, and nobody but the kids takes notice of me anymore.

Ladin and her mother want to take a short walk through the fields with me. We pass a few guys with Kalashnikovs; I smile at them and they smile back. I suspect they're not police or anything official. After all, this region was the last part of Cambodia where the Khmer Rouge held foot...
Her mom looks a bit sad, and I have vague ideas why that would be. Ladin translates and tries to explain to me what's happening. Her mom is very suspicious about me, because the village is asking her about me and Ladin. Why I am here, and more importantly, what my relation to Ladin is. I do my best to explain everything, and try to assure her of my best intentions.
Later it will become apparent that my message didn't get across completely, because a lot of folk are asking both Ladin or her mom what's up with us. Are we married, are we engaged ? And if not, why did I arrive with Ladin out of the blue ? Later that evening, I try to stay away from Ladin as much as possible to avoid further possible embarassment for Ladin's mother (and Ladin as well, I suppose).

Part 4: Dinner. Chanting. Presents. Chanting.

It's 6pm and some activity is beginning to show. People are gathering around tables, moving chairs (Cambodian plastic chairs seem to be available in only red or blue), bowls and chopsticks... I reckon it's time to eat, but I'm not joining them. First off I wouldn't know where to sit, and secondly I think it would be best for me to be a bit cautious with the food. So I stick to sticky rice and some fresh coconut. Simple but efficient and nice.
The musicians start to perform some sort of religious music (I think; I didn't ask) with elongated and monotonous chanting. I am totally unfamiliar with this kind of music; never heard it before and I can't quite pin down the rhythm or melody.
Here's an example of what the music sounded like (well, more or less. The example is Arak Music, which is played for the Royal Court).
In the meantime the amount of people has grown to be about 200 or something. Everyone's eating, babbling, chatting and smacking, just like any other wedding party anywhere in the world. It's quite lively, and fun to watch.

Every hour or so the bride disappears upstairs in the hut, to appear again half an hour later in another dress and different make-up and jewelry. The bridal dresses become more and more elaborate - they're incredibly beautiful and colourful! On a sidenote: the poor groom will keep the same costume the whole day and night...
Every time after a change of dress, she walks about the compound, accompanied by her bridesmaids. People hand over their gifts to the couple, and photographs are taken (not by me - there is an official wedding photographer present now, and he has a nice Nikon FM). With the help of Ladin I improvise a small gift as well; a twenty dollar bill in an envelope, on which Ladin has written a few lines in Khmer as dictated by me. When it's my time to hand over my present, we are guided to a dry field next to the compound, so that photos can be taken. A lot of people gather around us in a circle, while some others try to explain me the rules. There seems to be a strict protocol on how to do this, and I'm trying my best to be as serious and serene as possible about it... I hand over my gift in the traditional Cambodian way (right hand out, elbow supported by left-hand fingers), which seem to surprise a few people. I feel really honoured to be part of all this amongst these incredibly hospitable and fantastic people. I am moved beyond words... and retreat silently in a corner of the village for a while.

After dinner it's time for dancing and fun.
But first: chanting! Just an hour or so...

Part 5: Bath. Shower. Washing up.

Ladin reminds me in a gentle but nonetheless firm way that I really should wash up first. I jokingly asks where the shower or bathroom might be. She points to the water well at the edge of the open space near the woods.
Gasp.
Ladin is being very sweet and gets me a small bar of her soap, and hands me over two small (kitchen) towels. One serves as both a loin cloth and a washing cloth - don't ask me how I am going to combine covering my loin whilst washing up, and the other is for rubbing me dry. Since it's nearly dark now and I'm dusk-blind, she has to guide me to the well. I'm very much aware of the fact that although me myself cannot see much, other people still can, and they're all staring at me. Someone has put two buckets of water next to the well, and a stainless-steel bowl for scooping. The big tree next to the well is my designated hat-rack. Right, ehm...
I ask for some privacy, but that is clearly not understood by the kids gathering around me or peeking from behind some other trees. So I try to do it decently, albeit in a quick and decisive manner. Alas... I seem to be doing it all wrong, 'cause suddenly Mr. Blue pops up and shows me how to wash up properly with a bowl. He scrubs my head and chest and back, and the rest is up to me (ugh). I'm struggling to find the tiny bar of soap in the grass. I bet those kids have never seen such a shiny white ass !

Part 6: Jimi Hendrix. Apsara.

Two round plastic tables are placed in the centre of the "dance floor". There's also a jerrycan (!) with that infamous rice wine I drunk earlier, and another with some water (definitely not for me), and some smudgy glasses for good measure.
Let the party begin...
The music - played off a crappy CD player and blasted through an antiquated but huge PA system, 500 watts or so - is a really weird combination of traditional Khmer music, Thai pop music and the best of Jimi Hendrix' howling feedback solos. Or rather, that's how it sounds to me. The beat is very odd, 5/7 or thereabouts. Sometimes the music changes to something more modern: the same as before, but a tad faster, stronger bass drum and with some 80-ties "piuu-puuiiu" disco synthdrums mixed in. I'm baffled.
The first hour it's only boys and men dancing. They dance in rows of two or three counterclockwise round the tables, almost in sync with each other. Their steps are hard to follow. One step to the front, a quarter turn left, one step back, quarter turn to the right, two steps forward (or something similar). I study it thoroughly, but can't figure out how they keep moving forward around the tables. While performing these utterly complicated steps, they still manage to move their arms in some sort of waving pattern left and right, and turn and twist their hands in an apsara-like way (try to bend your fingers backwards - just try). If guys would be doing this in some Western club, they would certainly be categorised as gay. But I find it very stylish and gracious... When the ehm, disco songs are played, the movements and steps become a bit wilder, but it's still based on the same back-and-forth pattern. It's a weird but wonderful spectacle...
While the boys and men dance, the rest of the crowd - women and kids - sit in their blue or red plastic chairs around the floor, looking at the men. They don't drink nor eat, they almost don't talk either. A few people who are not part of the wedding party have set up some tables between the people, selling some candy and fresh fruit. Very strange to sell things at a wedding, me thinks. Probably the reason why I don't see many people eating.

Of course my worst fear has to happen: I get invited to join the dancing, despite my nimble protests. Now, I'm not a very good dancer (understatement of the day; I am a really bad dancer), and to make matters worse, I can't figure out how they do it. Also, the rhythm of the music totally escapes me. Oh well, let's try to make some fun at least...
So I join the dancers, feeling very lost in the rhythm, trying to bend and twist my hands and fingers in gracious ways, and being very much aware of the 200 eyes staring at me... I certainly must look totally ridiculous, but I don't care. When I start emulating the typical apsara moves (bend your fingers backwards, then the palm of your hand forwards, then twist your lower arm perpendicular to your elbow... only, I do it reversed since I can't bend my fingers backwards), people start laughing out loud. Ha, this is working ! Why don't I just use the Guy-variation of apsara - which detracts my audience away from my not-so-fancy footwork - and simply hop forwards a bit ? Hehe...
More hilarity when I sometimes hit the improvised roof with my head. And total slapstick when I start teaching them how to perform a decent heavy-metal version of apsara... :-) I'm toroughly enjoying this, but after a while I am really exhausted and withdraw myself in a corner somewhere. The others just keep going and going for hours. But when the bride and groom still invite me to dance - with a traditional greeting - I cannot refuse, so I have to go on (and on and on and on). It's incredible fun, but around half past two I think I'd better go to bed. I'm way beyond tired, and a bit dehydrated as well. A nice old lady prepares a fresh coconut for me, and I'm off to bed...

Here's an excerpt from the book "Off the Rails in Phnom Penh", which I read after my visit, and which explains the modern way of dancing in Cambodia a bit better:

[...] because the dance floor suddenly lights up for the ram wong. The music, unlike anything commonly heard in the West, is perhaps best described as Islamic or Jewish prayer chants mixed with calypso music. Dancing to it is as beautiful as it is simple. The foot movements are basically slow, small steps around a circle. But the real action is in the hands; you move them up and down, curling and uncurling your fingers, turning the palms inward and outwards, and rotating at the wrists. Depending on the song, these actions are performed at a different pace, but always incredibly gracefully.
With the disco lights, the music, and the sight of all these men and women (who, when they dance, define the meaning of grace) moving around in a circle as they wave and rotate their hands, I feel an intoxication that has nothing to do with [...]
All too soon, the music cycle rotates to disco, and we sit down. The playlist seems to run for about 10-15 minutes each of sloo, ram wong, and disco [...]

Page 161, Off the Rails in Phnom Penh, by Amit Gilboa. Asia Books Co., Ltd. ISBN 974-8303-34-9

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Note: So ok, I'm learning every day... I did some more research on this topic, and I learned that the ram wong is the traditional wedding dance music in Laos, Thailand & Cambodia. Forgive me for being so ignorant - I should have known.
Anyway, here's a sample of the kind of music I danced to (just don't try to picture that, please!):

Click to listen... (mp3).

And here's a more up-tempo song
(warning: heavy use of cheap 80ties synths!):

Click to listen... (mp3).

Somehow I like this stuff... :-)

Part 7: Off to bed...!?

Erm, which bed !? There's a wooden floor, some kids and elderly sleeping here and there, and that's it. The PA system is still pumping tunes at full blast, and a diesel generator right below me under the hut is doing its best to provide a numbing background drone... Ladin and her mom have provided me with a nice looking pillow, so I drop down somewhere on the floor near the window, slurp my coconut drink and close my eyes...
When I open my eyes again - like 5 minutes later, I see a few kids spying on me, probably to check if I really can sleep in here. Now and then someone enters the hut, drops down to the floor and sleeps. No pajamas here ! After a short while, I fall asleep despite the less than perfect conditions, oh miracle of me !

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