Saturday, October 01, 2005

YOU NEVER GET A SECOND CHANCE...

We were talking about first impressions, my class and me. A textbook unit, an ESL unit, one of many. "You never get a second chance to make a first impression": trying to explain what that meant, watching their young faces puzzle out the strange and melodious logic of American expressions. It's not just people, I was saying. You can have first impressions of buildings, cities, even countries.

"So what was your first impression of Cambodia?"

Good question. Interesting question. When you live in a foreign country, you get asked all the time, daily, sometimes hourly: "What do you think of (insert country name here)?" You are a guest in the country, so you have to say good things, positive things. Nobody wants to hear you slag their homeland, and I wouldn't want to do so. There's a time and place for everything, and a classroom full of teenagers do not want to hear that their country is majestically fucked up.

So. First impressions? Like, first first impressions?

When one lands in Cambodia for the first time, excitement is tempered by anxiety, bordering on panic. At Pochentong Airport in Phnom Penh, a seated line of grim-faced workers in grim-green suits sit behind a counter that greets you after stepping off the plane. They want your passport. They need your passport. You hand them your ten, twenty bucks for a visa, along with a passport-sized photo for the visa, and then they make you wait. The passport is passed along from soldier to soldier, while you wait and wonder just what the hell you are doing in Cambodia in the first place. (Okay, they're not soldier soldiers, but they sure as hell look like it.) After they've deemed that your money is valid and your purpose is valid you are allowed to pass through customs. After that, well, you are on your own. You are in Cambodia. Holy fuck, you think. (Or I think, anyways. I'm from St.Catharines, Ontario, after all. They didn't cover this kind of shit in my Geography classes. Sputtering, skipping, newsreel-like films about the Russian economy from the 1970's, shown to the class while the Soviet Union was in the midst of falling apart, rendering all the information moot and void, introduced by my apologetic-but-not-really teacher? Check. How to survive in a third world country on your own? Um, no. Missed that class. Maybe had a race that day or something.)

Three years ago, when I first came here for a week of English teaching, there was no taxi service run by the airport itself. There were taxis, yes, but they were outside. Problem was, not only were there taxis, there were also taxi drivers.

Why was this a problem? Because the moment you stepped out of the aiport ten, fifteen taxi drivers descended on you like crows on carrion. They all shouted "Sir! Sir!", grabbing you, trying to lead you towards their car, their taxi, their meal ticket for the day. They were short and thin and chubby and tall and male and female. They were poor and you were not.

What to do, what to do, what to do. I sure as shit didn't know what to do. What if I picked one and the others got royally pissed? What if they ripped my arms off and gnawed them like chicken wings? (Such are the thoughts of an ignorant traveller.)

So I did what I had to do, which was pick a taxi-driver, and he looked happy, and the others looked pissed. But that was it. As soon as I chose one driver with the magic-wand of my outstretched finger, the others let out a small moan of disappointment, then dispersed. Instantly. They didn't give me a sour look. They didn't fight with each other. There was some kind of code at work which I did not understand, but I did recognize, instantly, that perhaps this place, this land, was more civil than I expected. (Crazy, yes, fuck yeah, but civil. In its own, outrageous fashion.)

My first impression, then? That out of some kind of chaos came a small and precise form of civility.

Now, it's different. Now, at the airport, taxi drivers no longer linger to grab you and pull you and beg you to feed them for a day. There's a tidy little desk with a tidy little man who will book a car for you, arrange a driver for you, handle all the details.

That's nice. It's easier.

But still. I remember that first hot day, those initial surreal moments in Cambodia. Those tugging, insistent drivers. Their dejected but calm acceptance of my disoriented rejection. Looking back, it was, in the end, a good first impression, all things considered. It was very strange and real and indicative of what would follow in the following two years. Madness tempered by grace.

14 comments:

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Anonymous said...

few years from now, Cambodia will be another boring destination, like thailand.

Scott said...

I'm not so sure about that -- enough of the country will remain rural and isolated enough to attract adventure-type vacationers. Outside of Phnom Penh and Siem Reap, nothing much is developed, and I don't see that changing for awhile, so those like to go 'off the beaten' path will find enough offbeat stuff here to satisfy them.

Christa said...

Don't you think the history will keep them coming too?

bethanie_odd said...

"few years from now, Cambodia will be another boring destination, like thailand."

HA, of all the things I can think of to say about Thailand, and let me tell you.. I have a list, boring is not one of them. Cambodia could never be Thailand and Thailand was never like Cambodia.

I enjoyed this post Scott. Watching how an area changes, be it organizational or natural disaster or by the presence of new money in a very poor community (which is what I noticed a lot), can really be an awareness of globalization. I think it is hard, at times, to discern where the line is between development and the shifting of culutre. If there is a line at all.

Scott said...

Christa -- I think you're right. Those with an interest in history will keep always find something of interest in any country to bring them there, and this place certainly has enough majestic and horrific history on display to satisfy HISTORY CHANNEL nuts.

Ms Odd -- Interesting point, about not being sure where development and culture intertwine and shift. I think of Japan, which is the most developed country on earth, and yet, at heart, it's still so very traditional; it's become ultra-modern but maintained its physical and spiritual roots. (Though that's changing, and open to debate, I guess.)

I get where 'anon' is coming from, though; every tourist I see here has the LONELY PLANET CAMBODIA on them, and one wonders if every single hotel and restaurant in every city on earth will eventually be mapped and scouted. The mystery of travel will disappear. (Which isn't true, of course, because you alwaysh have the option of leaving the guidebook at home and winging it.)

jon said...

school textbook are so expensive. I agree, We have been looking for school textbook all night for a new school textbook class but havent been able to track down used school textbook that I can afford. Anyway, I enjoyed looking at you school textbook blog...

jon

Scott said...

I wasn't aware that I had started a school textbook discussion, or that I had a school textbook blog. But what the hey, I'll take all the comments I can get...

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