The twenty-ninth of October was a Friday, which also happened to be the coronation day of the new king, son of the old king, and it also happened to be my birthday, conicidentally enough. There was lots of fireworks, and singing, and speeches transmitted over loudspeakers, not a word of which I could understand, mostly because the sound quality was poor, and it was in Khmer, and I was very, very high up, on top of a building, waiting for dinner.
On top of INTERED, this would be, which is a language school here in Phnom Penh; there is a lovely outdoor restaurant just down the hall from the classrooms. If the students don't want to learn English, they can eat. And drink Coke. And be merry.
As was I, that night. It was a good night, with American and Indian and Khmer and Filipino friends. A mix of the world, drinking and laughing and eating together. Talking about nothing much at all. Forcing me to do my imitation of university staff members. Eating too many french fries and drinking too many Cokes (my diet mercifully suspended, if only for a day.)
Somewhere, just down the road, behind the palace gates, there was a new king being crowned. I'm no king, and no crown was placed on my head, but it was a royal night, I must say, a royal night.
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If you mention that Cambodia is halfway around the world from Canada, requiring almost twenty hours of flight time, that sounds like a long way. As was Japan -- a minimum of twelve hours, Tokyo to Toronto. A fair hike.
But is it really all that far? Isn't it relative?
Less than a day, is all. From Cambodia to Canada, from cultures so extremely different that they appear to exist not in the same universe, let alone on the same planet. And you can go from here to there in a day and a bit. A lot of waiting in airports, yes, and you will have passed through five airports and four countries, too, but still. Not that long, in the grand scheme of things.
Where I grew up, in St.Catharines, Ontario, the big shopping mall was (and still is, I'm presuming) the Pen Centre, and that was a good fifteen, twenty minute drive from down where I lived. Twenty whole minutes. You take the bus, you're talking a solid half hour. At age twelve, that was far. That was far. I think you even had to transfer at the downtown terminal. In high school I met some people who actually lived down that way, which seemed incredible to me. And Fort Erie, where we would often drive to on weekends to visit friends, was, like, forty-five minutes away.
So, in the space of about ten or twelve years, I've gone from considering my house to the Pen Centre to be far, to believing that Cambodia to Canada isn't all that far.
Progress?
