Markets, Khmer, and Tuk Tuks...

I'm not sure where to begin.

HOW should I begin? With what, doing where, going how? I don't usually have expectations about things so I can't say it's what I expected, but it is...it is as expected nothing like anywhere I have ever been.

I am really terrible at writing descriptions and explanations. You'll find that soon, and hopefully sooner rather than later I'll have a camera and all of us will be spared my stumbling attempts. Either way, for the moment I'll stay away from them, and just tell you what I think is important.

Let's start this way: the roofs are colorful. Flying in, it's a mess of color, green of the trees, brick red, deep blue roofs, white, everything else thrown in for kicks. On the street you don't see the colors of the roofs, but it's still a mess. Umbrellas, carts, restaurants but without front windows. The streets are packed with motos and tuk tuks and a few cars, and nobody seems to care which side of the road you drive on. The motos weave in and out of everything -- often you'll see the moto taxis with one or two people sitting on the back, and if you walk down the street, the drivers -- moto and tuk tuk -- will offer rides incessantly.

The city is small but any time you don't know where you're going it seems bigger. There doesn't appear to be any street signs, only a few on the main roads. People seem to operate on landmarks and a solid knowledge of their neighborhoods.

Everywhere there is something to buy. It's cheap if you go where the locals go and extremely expensive if you go Western. Someone is always selling something, phones, bikes, water. Parking seems to be another adventurous activity -- my friend has a driver, and in being chauffered around, I noticed that almost all shops have an assistant whose job is to park the cars and make sure the tuk tuks go around when the car is backing up. They open the door for you to get out, and I guess receive a few riels in return.

Yesterday happened, and exactly what happened I'm not sure I could tell you -- I arrived in Phnom Penh around noon and the rest of the day existed in a haze, being bombarded with sights and sounds, information, and in the meantime trying to trick my body into believing that it wasn't actually in the middle of the night.

I managed to stay awake until 8:30, barely, enjoying a traditionally Cambodian meal for dinner with my friend's parents; chicken and ginger, a fish soup, and some kind of stew with some kind of eggs, meat, and veggies. With rice, of course, and fresh lychees and mangosteens for dessert.

What else --- I decided that my current wardrobe is drastically inadequate for the culture and the heat and have already set about rectifying that. It's somewhat conservative here, so I already have a pair of 'aladdin' pants, which are light and airy but cover a lot. I also bought a light dress, with small sleeves and calf length, and will soon add a very light shirt to cover my shoulders for the dresses I have. Apparently white skin is deeply coveted here, and despite the heat the locals cover most of their skin, even going so far as to use whitening creams.

I'm already working on learning the language -- it bugs me greatly to not be able to communicate with the locals in their own tongue and English is pretty spotty anyway. I can say basic things like thank you and please, I would like to go, etc, along with "I am a teacher in the arts," "more rice please," and how to count to twenty. It's not a difficult language, but the pronunciation is crazy and I don't think I will ever be able to read it. But most signs are in both English and Khmer, so I don't really have to. It's just the speaking that's the trick.

I also already have a Cambodian nickname -- while in English nicknames usually come from the first syllable -- for mean, "Gill" -- but here it's the last. My friend's mom has trouble saying Gillian because the soft g sound doesn't really exist here. So now she calls me 'yan', from the "ian" at the end. I actually quite like it.

But before I go don't let me forget to talk about the markets. They are cramped and busy and you can buy whatever it is you please. Bargaining is allowed and encouraged, and the shopkeepers either recruit customers or can be found napping in their stalls. Things are cheap, but apparently the prices jack up if you're white.

I suppose the most jarring for me were the piles of fresh fish and dead chickens, being gutted and cleaned as you watch. I guess it's a good way to see where your food is coming from, but it smelled too much of blood for me. I suppose it's something you get used to, and I want to buy fruit for breakfast. Overwhelming, busy, but fascinating.

I think, actually, that could be said for everything here.