Running Away from the Elections, and the Backpackers: A trip to the coast

As some of you may or may not know, there were just elections in Cambodia. It's the first time since the Khmer Rouge that the opposition party, the Cambodia National Rescue Party, has had significant support, and the campaigning season has been crazy, with huge rallies for both sides anywhere you look. While it is common knowledge that the ruling party had the election rigged, suddenly it became much more of an issue. In the weeks leading up to the vote, the embattled leader of the CNRP, Sam Rainsy, who had been in self-exile (that or face a long prison term in Cambodia for phantom charges), was granted a royal pardon by Hun Sen himself, and returned to the country.

The vote is over now and both sides have claimed victory, with reports of serious voter and poll fraud and both sides pointing fingers, and calls for investigations and recounts and all sorts of crazy things.

That's a story for another post, however, and what I mean to say is, this past weekend when the vote happened was the perfect excuse to get out of the city. My flatmate has been itching for a vacation for awhile anyway, and I thought that sounded like a brilliant idea, so on Friday we hopped in a taxi and headed south.

The road to Sihanoukville is very well taken care of -- and it needs to be. The main cargo shipping port is there and if the trucks carrying the shipping containers can't get there, the whole economy stalls. So instead of the very suspect and pot-hole filled road to Siem Reap, the road to Sihanoukville is smooth and paved.

The town itself is sprawled on the hilly coast, somewhat badly organized and winding. The second stoplight arrived recently, and the roads are mostly paved these days. It's developing quickly, but slightly too fast for itself and kind of haphazardly. Still, my first impression was that it was charming, with the hills and the one main street.

After getting everything organized for the rest of the weekend, we headed down to Serendipity Beach, down a short slope and then sprawling to both sides in boardwalks and restaurants. To the left, the sand beaches and restaurants, paroled by a few dozen women and children selling manicures, bracelets, and a waxing service that somehow ingeniously uses dental floss and baby powder to remove hair. To the right, the bungalows, a boardwalk of small beach-side bars and a number of huts built into the sleeply sloping hillside, which is where we stayed the first night.

Where we stayed the first night

Very happy to be away from the madness!

It was lovely -- except, of course, the booming bass music from across the beach, where the backpackers apparently partied until past 5am, right about the time the rain started and more or less drowned out the end of the party. By that time it was about time to get up anyway, and we were on a shuttle bus by seven, heading to the shipping port where a ferry would take us out to the island. It was a quiet enough ride until all the seats filled up and we stopped one more time to pick up a large group of still-drunk British backpackers, whose first words upon getting on the bus were, "Sorry guys, we're drunk as shit."

They were covered in paint (paint!) from the previous night's party and filling the bus with loud, inane chatter, including announcing very loudly that the people sitting down didn't appear to be enjoying their banter (really, ya think?). Needless to say, when we all saw that they were occupying the top level of the boat, we immediately went to the bottom level.

The boat ride to Koh Rong, our final destination, is supposedly two hours but actually closer to two and a half or three -- so long. When we arrived, a chipper expat hopped on the boat to inform us that there would be a briefing about the island's "activities" at the nearby guesthouse, but sensing a backpacker trap, my flatmate and I jumped off the boat as soon as possible and went peeling away from the backpacker area of the island, filled with dorm rooms and "As long as you're still drinking, we're still open" signs.

I have yet to really understand the bungalow phenomenon, let alone the concept of an "upscale" bungalow, but the place we went was supposedly upscale -- I guess that means you pay for privacy, your own hut, and no backpackers. The bungalow was tucked up into the gently sloping hills, a short walk from the large hut that doubled as common chill out area and restaurant, and the beach.

After some food and getting checked in, we headed straight for the beach for some sunbathing, though I forgot to check that my sunblock wasn't actually water-resistant, and after two and a half hours, I woke up from a nap to discover that I was seriously burned -- actually, as the day went on, it got worse and worse, developing into a very painful red. Whoops.

Sometimes I sits and thinks, and sometimes I just sits. 

The third day, second on the island, passed in peace. Mostly, I sat on a rock in the shade and read, or stared at the water. Later on, when it was dark and nobody was on the beach, I took the recommendation of a friend and went for a late-night, unclothed swim, which wasn't nearly as terrifying as I might have thought, deep water and darkness not being my favorite things in the world. I discovered that the sea there has the special phosphorescent algae that lights up the water when you move your body.

Then it was Monday and time to go back to an uneasily quiet city, but in between Koh Rong and Phnom Penh was a long and rainy boat ride and a longer drive. I was not looking forward at all to the boat ride, as it was a rainy and windy morning. However, I took my towel up to the less-populated upper deck and found the ride to actually be very strangely enjoyable. I realized that the rocking felt much like riding an elephant in Siem Reap, which was quite comforting, and the wind in my face was refreshing, watching the rain move in and out, obscuring the shore and the islands from view. It did get kind of cold when the rain started, but a good samaritan lent me an extra towel to hide under.

The weekend was not really a stop so much as a pause, but it was very welcome. Sleep comes early as there isn't much to do after dark, unless you want to head down to the backpacker area and drink yourself to oblivion (clearly that was high on my priority list). Time moves impossibly slowly when you have nothing to do, and by the end I was glad to return and get back into the swing of things -- though I admit that trying to think again on Tuesday morning after four days of staring at the water and not thinking was a bit of a struggle.

And next time, I'm going to be a bit more careful on that stupid sunblock...

Meanwhile, back on the ranch

Although my first anniversary in Cambodia has come and gone, it's been such a crazy month that I haven't spent a lot of time reflecting on how my perspective on the country has changed since I arrived -- or my perspective on where I fit into the picture and how. There is a time for reflection, of course, but I'm not sure if now is it -- sometimes, I think, it doesn't matter what's changed, just where you are now, and where you want to go. 

I have been noticing in the past week I've been thinking about America a lot. Some of it has been plain old homesickness, mostly for the seasons. I missed winter, and now I'm missing summer, the long days and the Colorado blue skies. I've been missing baseball, fresh salads, and going for walks in the mild evening air after dinner. 

It's gotten me thinking how, after a year living abroad (in a very, very different country) has not only changed my perspective on where I am, but where I come from. I know being back in the States in March was a really crazy experience in a lot of ways. It's not that "absence makes the heart grow fonder" and the things that made me want to leave seem less negative, nor that all I can see now is what's wrong. 

In fact, it's more that I just look back at it, and see it. The politics as a steaming cesspot of extremism and furious people who believe they must always be right (on both sides, I mean, but it's true that the conservatives in America these days are being downright scary), the media in all its sensationalist and outrage-mongering glory, and the absolute travesty of the healthcare system (and the mind-blowing resistance to fixing it) -- but also, I find myself appreciating the quality of education (but not the system itself) and the self-made man attitude that is still pervasive. The "work hard enough and you can" mentality.  

With my current struggle to figure out where funding is supposed to come from for a budding dance company, I've been thinking about national arts councils and support systems, like the National Endowment for the Arts, however much the budget is getting cut, at least it exists. Real theaters, art museums. 

Sometimes, it's just the simple things -- like sidewalks, clean streets, and some semblance of order in a crazy world. Sometimes the things I miss are the things that freak me out when I'm home, like supermarkets and wide streets. 

There's also my increasing feeling that my home, Colorado, is not America, it's Colorado. America as a whole is not a place I want to spend a lot of time in, for much of the above reasons. But, Colorado is somewhere I could probably deal with. Of course, I have to remember that Colorado is still in America, and the back and forth continues. 

The point I think I'm trying to make is that things aren't simple. There is the Big Stuff going on that I am not at all a fan of, and small things that both totally throw me off for a few days when I'm there and become little beacons of comfort when I'm not. It's kind of confusing, really, to know that there are a lot of things I really disagree with as far as the direction the country is going, and yet somehow it's still home, and thinking of going back eventually to live with my family is not at all a bad thought. 

I'm currently in a week where I'm not feeling at all sure what future Cambodia holds for me, and if it is, actually, where I can make things happen. I'm questioning a lot of things, including how much I need to be questioning, and generally speaking, these days I'm not sure at all where I would be better off. So, I'm just trying to look at what's here and what's there, in all fairness to each place as where and when and how it is. 

And in the meantime, I guess I don't have to be sure. I have ideas and there are still pathways here I haven't explored, and I would not want to leave before fully exploring all of them just because someone didn't make it to the summit on the path before me. I don't need to know how long I'm staying or where I should be, just make the best of the time that I'm here, follow each opportunity to its fullest extent, and decide what to do after that. 

Year 23, Year 1: Luck and blessings

I suppose it's technically year 24, as today I am 23 and entering my 24th year of life. I suppose it should also be year 2, as I have just finished year 1 in Cambodia and year 1 of Real Life not in school.

Whatever year, it's new for me, and my overwhelming emotion for the day is gratitude.

I make some luck for myself, but I'm also on the receiving end of a ridiculous amount. I can't take credit for a lot of it, and I don't dare ever take it for granted. I'm overwhelmed by the love and support of my friends and family, by the fact that I get paid to do what I love and somehow my dreams are coming true, day by day and second by second. Every day is a blessing and a gift.

As for one year in Cambodia -- I'm excited to see what the next year can bring. This is the longest I've been anywhere away from home, and have had a tendency before to build half a life and then leave it and go onto the next thing. Now, I'm taking the time to build something here.

Tonight everything is sunshine and roses, but of course this whole year wasn't all fun and games. As you saw from my blog posts, especially in February, this year has challenged me in more ways than I thought was possible, and pushed me further than I thought was possible. It's been a struggle, and some days I got up to fight and some days I just buried my head.

But I don't want to talk about that today. That is that and now is now, and now I am blessed beyond belief.

Let's see what fantastic stuff comes up in year 23....

Finding the next Khmer Michael Jackson -- The pop music industry in Cambodia

I've been working for Cambodian Television Network (CTN) for a little over six months now, and over that time I've seen a lot of pop singers coming in and out. I've been listening to the music, watching the performances, and generally observing.

I previously spent a lot of time complaining how all the songs sound the same. That's not quite true, as I've since learned to discern the differences, but it is true that, like most pop songs, there's a formula -- 2-4 counts of 8 for an intro, a verse of 4 or 8 counts of 8, a chorus of the same, a 2 to 4 counts of 8 solo, and then another verse and two choruses to the end. There are very, very few that veer too far from this. The one time we had a song in three, my dancers freaked out.

Roughly half of the singers actually perform their songs live (it just occurred to me if I'm really supposed to be disclosing this...but, I doubt it's much of a secret). A good number seem quite unsure of the songs, and when they do sing live, aren't exactly sure when their entrance is. Once on stage, they remain stuck more or less in one place with their microphone. The girls are usually in such tight dresses or such high heels (or both) that doing anything else would be dangerous. If there are two of them, one in awhile they'll change places.

In the dressing rooms, they're nice enough, even the bigger stars. They always have an entourage, or at least one person (usually I guess it's a younger sibling) to do their hair and help them with their shoes. They borrow makeup sometimes, liberally splash white powder on their faces (like everyone else, including the MCs), and sit quietly with their smartphone/tablet until it's time to sing.

So all of this was observed, and then the switch went, and I got curious. One of the singers performing last weekend was singing live, with a really great voice, and I went looking for songs on the internet. He's one of the bigger stars here, but I can only find three songs. And that's when I started asking questions. Who are these people, where do they come from, how do they get where they are and why don't most of them seem to know their songs, how do they make money, and really, what's going on here.

Turns out, most don't seem to know their own songs because they aren't their songs at all. There are a few large production companies/recording labels, and they write songs. Since there's a formula that works more or less, they follow the formula. Or, they'll translate a foreign song into Khmer. Then, they'll hire a voice to record the song, and release the album as a compilation. Then, they'll trot the singer off to perform on various television stations/events.

The singers themselves are paid for the recording and for the events. They are all of course screened for lookability. But they don't do anything themselves -- not the music, not the lyrics, and no dance. I'm sure there are some exceptions, but I haven't found them yet. Some bands -- like Dengue Fever and the Cambodian Space Project, which aren't really pop -- have recorded albums but the pop singers don't, or not that I know of.

In short, the pop singers are good-looking cardboard cutouts with a voice. It would be easy to point fingers at this and announce that Cambodians only know how to copy and therefore they wouldn't have any ideas should they have creative liberty over their music and careers, and probably just prefer to look pretty and get money.

Gee, that doesn't sound like anyone I might know of in America...

I'm getting off track. It would be easy to say that, but probably as wrong as announcing that all Americans eat hamburgers on a daily basis. From my experience here, and from the few conversations I've had so far, it's not necessarily a question of not wanting, but not knowing where to start. Not even knowing what tools you need to begin.

One of my friends has a band, and they write music. But where to record? How to record? She has no idea. The pop singer I thought was talented apparently used to be a construction worker. It probably never occured to him to sing, let alone make an album.

I have one Cambodian friend who is incredibly intelligent and an inquistive mind. She asks questions about everything, knows her own culture and it flaws, and has ideas about it. I was talking to her about this, which is when of course I thought, what you really need is an independent record label, with a studio and a crew of musicians. Then you need to find a singer who's willing and interested in taking a risk, get a songwriter on board and lock everyone up for several months and create a kick-ass, unique, original album, and then get it on the market in any way possible.

If the album is good, the independent ARTIST industry will explode. I capitalized artist because that's what's needed. Not singers, artists. I asked my friend about a million times, and each time she said yes -- that singer is out there. Probably more than one. Much like my students at CLA who had no idea where to begin in making a dance, but with a few tools in their back pocket, created some of the most innovative and interesting dance I've ever seen, there's a singer out there who wants to take control of their career, who doesn't just want to sing the songs they're given.

I think I have enough to do, but I want to find someone to make this happen. It's not just the traditional arts scene that needs to be nurtured and given artistic liberty, but also the modern and pop scene.

And I'd like to meet that singer who wants it enough to make it happen. Sure, some do just want to look pretty and get paid (hey, I wouldn't mind that either!!!). But I'd be happy to take the bet that many want more, but couldn't even imagine where to start, and so follow the system.

Any takers???

NOTE: I want to add something here -- I want to make it clear that I don't believe the singer in question also needs to be a songwriter. I'm just envisioning a place where they just start, however small or big, to take ownership of their music and their work as an artist.