Hari Raya in Singapore

Before I left Cambodia to attend the Hari Raya festival celebrating the end of Ramadan in Singapore, my Country Director told me some of his fondest memories from his own Peace Corps service in Malaysia were of the same festival … and the food that goes with it! After this past week, they are certainly some of my own as well. After five months in-country, stepping off that plane in Singapore felt like a homecoming. The obvious reason being because I had five whole, uninterrupted days to spend with Goy and his friends and family, but also – admittedly – because things are just easier there. I could drink water straight from the tap. Made-to-order sushi at the touch of a computer screen. Working public transportation. No stares, no discrimination, no unwanted attention. It’s easy to forget how absolutely wonderful those simple pleasures are when you’re boiling your own water and trying to keep a low profile amidst the constant celebrity status of being one of a handful of Westerners in rural Cambodia. You know you’ve crossed some line when you feel the tiniest impulse to tear up while watching students study in Starbucks sipping on a chai tea latte. Uh… that being a purely hypothetical example, of course. The festival itself and days leading up to it were incredible. Since the festival is all about food, I’ll start there …

Hari Raya celebrates the end of the Muslim month of fasting called Ramadan. During the festival, everyone visits family and friends to spend time together, ask for forgiveness, and—of course—share a meal. During our visits, I ate four meals in seven hours, putting me in a blissful food coma for the rest of the evening. The whole thing makes Thanksgiving look like a light snack…trust me guys, slow and steady wins the race. Beef rendang, pineapple tarts, chicken korma, cookies made from green peas, chocolates, curries, cakes. The list goes on. The most interesting thing I think I ate was those pineapple tarts. They’re about the size of a quarter with a dollop of pineapple preserve in the middle. The dough tastes similar to shortbread, but when you place the tart on your tongue, it soaks up ALL the liquid in your mouth and crumbles into dust. It’s impossible to talk with it in your mouth, but the whole process is deliciously fun. Almost every house we visited had its own version of this traditional treat, so I got to do a true taste test. Without fail, every time I’d stick one in my mouth my host would ask how it tasted. Answering was easy: delicious, duh! … it’s the struggle to answer the question without raining cookie crumbs all over the carpet that’s the real challenge. Always the lady, I know.

The other really striking thing about the festival is the clothing. And you all know how I feel about clothing. A few days before the festival, I went to the night market at Geylang with Goy, his cousin Inn, his wife Tria, and their daughter Farisha. Let me just say, the night market is crowded…and as someone coming from Cambodia where I literally have to throw elbows to get through the market sometimes—that’s saying something. The later in the week and later at night it gets, the lower the prices fall and the more people that come to bargain. Aside from traditional Malay clothing, you can buy snacks, carpets, fabric and textiles, and an assortment of beautiful goods that I would have needed another four days to even begin to fully explore. We were on a mission though. We all needed to find outfits for the big day. Since we would be going as one “family unit,” we all would wear the same color (black). At each house you visit, you can always identify who belongs with who by what color they’re wearing. All the greens are one family group, all the pinks belong together, all the blues, etc. etc. It made putting names with relatives a little easier for sure! It took us a few nights to collect all the pieces and accessories we needed, but once we did, I have to admit we all looked pretty stunning. The pictures speak for themselves, so have a look at my summer album for the hard evidence.

But what I liked best about Hari Raya was the spirit of forgiveness at the heart of it. At each house, members of the family would kneel before each other and whisper things they were truly sorry for and ask for forgiveness. That person would then forgive them and offer their consolations before the exchange was complete. Although the process is a very personal and private expression (how could it not be when you’re articulating your faults so earnestly to another person), each request for forgiveness is an open act of love rather than a form of judgment. It was extremely touching to watch and an important part of the celebration. It made me realize just how hard it is to take ownership of our daily shortcomings and how beautiful the unconditional love between family and friends really is.

The celebration is a time to appreciate those people, start fresh and find the best within yourself, share your blessings, and spread some joy. Really, who can ask for more?

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Just Like Lara Croft

It’s hard to decide where this story starts, but I suppose the root lies here: truth be told, we’re all a little sick of Phnom Penh. Sure, it’s a great place to take a break, but there’s really only so much you can do there without getting a little jaded about life in the Bode. Don’t get me wrong, you don’t see that stopping me from bouncing in whenever I need a fix of Western food and friends … but when Goy called early this month to say he could spend his birthday in Cambodia, I knew we needed to do something special. And what sounds better than a weekend at the beach? Fresh seafood? Fresh air? Warm water and lots of sun? Yes, please! …But Murphy’s Law prevails and we were in for one wild ride. Literally.

Birthday celebration destination: Sihanoukville. Dani, Tara, Scott, Steve, and I all met in Phnom Penh the Saturday of his arrival, checked in and started making the usual rounds around town. Clearly we’d need some Fat Boy Subs and Snow Yogurt before we could do anything else. Check and check. I should have known we’d be in for an adventure when Goy called to say he missed his flight and would have to catch a later plane, but he arrived with no further delay just in time for his birthday and a warm welcome from yours truly. We were off to the beach in no time and I figured the rest of the trip would be smooth sailing. About an hour into the bus ride, it started to rain.

I know what you’re thinking – well, its rainy season, what did you expect? But usually the rain comes in squalls for an hour each afternoon and then stops. This was different. Once it started it never stopped. Four hours later, it was still raining when we got off in Sihanoukville. When we finally got to our hotel -- soaked to the bone and sloshing through shin-deep puddles -- I told Goy he had officially experienced Cambodia at its finest. We waited the rain out, and then headed into town for dinner and drinks.

We got our fix of seafood overlooking the ocean and white sand, eating and chatting until the rain picked up again. Surely it couldn’t keep raining all night, could it? We laughed, fended off beach urchins, and pretended to be beach bums until we caught a break and could make a run for a little bar called Utopia. It certainly lived up to its name … or it certainly would have had it not been pouring. Despite the rain, the twinkle lights were just as bright, and I was just as terrible at pool as ever. We toasted to Goy’s birthday and made the most of the soggy evening, although we were all a little subdued due to the weather.

The next morning it was still raining, but the sky looked promising. We enjoyed a relaxing brunch and then – miraculously – the skys brightened a little so we could go swimming. It was still spitting, but the waves were perfect and the sand was soft. We all jumped waves and body surfed until we needed ice cream, then headed onshore to refuel. As always, the weekend was passing too quickly and we needed to catch the afternoon bus out. By 2:15, we got word that no buses would be leaving and we’d be stuck there for two days.

The what? Two days? Surely this was some tourist trap to keep us here an extra few days? It wasn’t even raining at this point! We found several taxi drivers willing to take us for a small fortune, but it seemed like the buses were truly out of service. Just as I was about to hit panic mode, we found a driver willing to take us for a reasonable(ish) price, but warned us that the roads were flooded and he couldn’t guarantee he’d be able to get us across the bridges? Yeah, yeah – whatever. These people drive through ANYTHING.

Off we went. We made it about half way before we started seeing rapids. On the road. The right side of the road was flooded over onto the pavement, making it look like we were driving through a small network of lakes. All in all, we weren’t worried – there were tons of cars and even a few buses on the road, so surely there couldn’t be a huge problem. That was until we got to the barricades. From that point forward, the roads were truly submerged. The end of the new “river” was nowhere in sight, and there were makeshift boats and jet skis running across like ferries carrying hundreds of waiting people to the other side.

We bargained, we begged, and pleaded and finally got ourselves on a boat. Of course, the boat almost capsized, of course we were ankle deep in sludge, and of course we were getting hopeless ripped off, but at least we were going. We made it safely to the other side and easily found a van to take us the rest of the way to Phnom Penh. Never mind, they crammed 18 people into the van – all of whom wanted to touch us and discuss how we ever came to be on a Khmer shared taxi. Ah yes, the sweet smell of humanity … and wet feet.

By the time we got to Phnom Penh I had officially decided Lara Croft can keep her tomb raining. But it was certainly an adventure to remember. We spent another very comparatively calm evening in Phnom Penh laughing about our luck on dry land. Of all the weekends to rain…it had to be that one. But you know what they say: It’s not the destination that counts, it’s the journey, and who you travel with!

p.s. Unfortunately I didn't take pics this weekend ... didn't need my camera floating away too. :(

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NEW PHOTOS

Yes, I've been terrible ... a summer of training new volunteers, a week in Takeo for a TEFL Conference, Camp GLOW, the City Beautification Project ..... and no photos. Here they are and a few extras to prove that even though I'm working hard, I'm still playing hard too! Highlights to look for: photos from my summer projects (GLOW in particular was a HUGE suggess), some beautiful ruins and a silk artisan's workshop at Phnom Chiso (Tara's site), and Tiffany, Rebecca, and my trip through the haunted house at the top of Sorya Mall ... yes, there's a haunted house in Phnom Penh. Yes we screamed like little girls. You would have too. ;) We also hit up the arcade. And most of you should know how I feel about arcades: pure love.

[To see more photos, check out my "Summer in the Bode" photo link on the right]

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