Would you like a side order of embryonic duck with that, Madame?

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Here’s another travel quote I like:

We travel, initially, to lose ourselves; and we travel, next, to find ourselves. We travel to open our hearts and eyes and learn more about the world than our newspapers will accommodate. We travel to bring what little we can, in our ignorance and knowledge, to those parts of the globe whose riches are differently dispersed. And we travel, in essence, to become young fools again - to slow time down and get taken in, and fall in love once more. - Pico Iyer (whoever that is; guess I better look it up)

Friday, April 4
I am writing this blog entry on Sunday, two days late. Like with many trips, so much can happen in a single day that time becomes very warped and impressions of experiences quickly become over-written by newer ones before they can be integrated into long-term memory. All of that is my explanation why this entry may seem a bit vague and fuzzy around the edges.

This would be our last full day on the boat, and we were pleased to hear that there would be no morning excursion, just free time on the boat to watch the passing scenery as the river narrowed and we passed through jungle-y areas with lots of birds. It was hot, but the shade on the sundeck, a slight breeze and several cold fruity cocktails made for a pleasant way to spend a few hours before lunch. (Yes, cocktails before lunch. I figured it was late evening at home, so what the hell?. Which reminds me: usually when I travel, I find myself wondering what everyone back home is doing at that particular moment that I’m thinking of them, but because of the time difference, you are all sleeping most of the time when that thought enters my head!)

The river got narrower, and at times there was only 30 feet or so of water on either side of us. As before, the banks were steep because of the low water level at this time of year, so while on the top deck of the ship, we were about level with the top of the bank. From that vantage point, we could see lots of flat countryside, dotted here and there with little stilted houses made of palm thatch, a few cows, an occasional temple, and not much else. Many of the houses were sitting alone in a field, with a few shade trees nearby, but I couldn’t tell what, if anything at all, was growing in those fields. There wasn’t much human activity to be seen on shore, but there were people out on their long narrow fishing boats, setting drift nets, and all along the way, children were swimming in the river or running to the riverbank as we went by, all waving and shouting, “Hello! Hello!” My impression was that we were passing through some pretty impoverished territory. Most Cambodians make their living farming, and the land didn’t look very fertile. A few of the children had the telltale rounded bellies and cinnamon-colored hair announcing their state of malnutrition. And here we sat, sipping cocktails and wondering what was for lunch…Ouch.

We left the boat for a couple of hours in the later afternoon, climbing aboard small boats (about 8 people to a boat, each with a driver who had at least one child in tow as a deckhand. We putted slowly through a floating village of fish farmers, similar to what we had seen in Vietnam, but these houses were much smaller and more modest. Most of these houses were maybe about 15 x 20 feet, their outside “porches” hung with laundry and hammocks, adults washing dishes or watching TV or stretched out on the floor to wait for heat of the day to pass, and children waving as we went by. When the light hit some of the homes just right, you could see inside the one open wall into their living space. They had family photos on the wall, TVs, fans, large wooden cabinets with mirrored doors and colorful decorations taped on them. The houses were often quite close together, and I think you could probably step from one to another in some cases.

Our next stop was the local market, which was under a huge thatched roof along the riverbank. This market looked more rough around the edges than others we’ve seen, with vendors selling local agricultural products (tomatoes, jackfruit, ears of corn, squash, palm sugar, fish) right on the ground or from makeshift tables. There were the usual curious children, and they tended to be naked or half-naked more than we had seen before. And there were flies, which we hadn’t seen in any other market anywhere, as surprising as that might be. Flies swarmed around and on the fish, even as people were picking out their purchases. Flies speckled the buckets of palm sugar, looking like raisins in a vat of oatmeal. And as we walked through all this, I heard a child crying and realized that it was the first time I had heard the sound of an unhappy child since this adventure began. (He appeared to be fine, just involved in a minor tussle with another child about something.)

Phali took us to a stall of traditional medicines - the Cambodian Rite-Aid, I suppose, though I would have thought it was a shop selling fireplace kindling if she hadn’t told me otherwise. An elderly woman sat beside a rickety table that was covered with open sacks of various wood chips and bits of bark, and we were told she has the knowledge to treat over 100 illnesses by mixing various ingredients and then making it into a tea to drink. We all assured her that we were feeling just fine, so she didn’t get any buyers from our group. I’d love to know more about how effective some of it actually is - but not enough to be the guinea pig this time around.

But on the subject of trying new things and being the guinea pig, I did try a new food today. Phali brought us to a stand selling cooked eggs, but these weren’t any ordinary eggs. Ordinary cooked eggs would cost about 300 riel (about 8 cents) but these cost 800 riel (you do the math), so they were very special and a great delicacy. Not only were they duck eggs, but they were actually embryonic ducks - 18 or so days into their 30-day gestation. (Do you call it gestation in an egg?) They were cooked and served with a little dish of herbs and spices on the side. Phali assured us that it was delicious and she proceeded to peel off the top of the egg and dig out spoonfuls, which she ate with obvious enjoyment. She offered some to anyone who wanted to try, and despite some initial hesitation, I couldn’t bear to miss the opportunity. I would have to say that it tasted a little like egg and a little like duck, with a texture not unlike a French country pate. (There were no discernable feathers in my mouthful.) I didn’t ask for a second bite, but I didn’t regret giving it a try. A couple of other people gave it a taste, but the rest of our crowd mostly shuddered and backed away.

Back to the ship for a farewell cocktail and a farewell dinner, followed by a short speech by the purser thanking the passengers and then a speech by a couple of the passengers thanking the crew. Then we were off to our cabins to pack up our belongings and prepare to leave the ship the next morning.

The crew of this ship really has been most amazing, particularly two of the Cambodian men. Roath is a young man who smiles at you so brightly you almost feel the need for sunglasses, and he serves our 6am coffee on the sundeck as though nothing could make him happier (even though he’s been up until midnight or 1 am the previous night doing other jobs on the ship.) Vuthy is an older man (hard to tell, but maybe my age?) who is especially solicitous as everyone gets on and off the ship, holding onto older men twice his size to steady them, reminding us all to watch our heads and hold the handrails. It was Vuthy who stood on the edge of the sand bar while we swam, watching over us like a mother hen and holding a bright orange life ring while we bobbed in the waist-deep water. It was also Vuthy who was one of the first to join us as we danced on the sand that night, and he struck up more conversation with me than any other crew member, asking about my home and my family. He has a wife and three young boys, who he obviously doesn’t see for long periods while he’s working on the ship, and he wanted to know about my kids and my “homeland.” After our night of dancing and this conversation, he greeted me every time we passed on the ship by saying, “Hello, my sister. I am happy you are here in my country.” Before we got off the boat, he handed me a scrap of paper with his name and phone number, telling me that if I or my family ever come back to Cambodia, he would love us to meet his family. (Don’t worry, Steve, I promise not to collect any more phone numbers on this trip - and I’m sure Vuthy’s intentions were completely honorable!)

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Photos

I can't stop taking pictures of kids
And they don't seem to want me to stop either!

Old woman in the market
Apparently a fan of chewing betel nut

Comments

[Jonathan]

Pico Iyer
Jess, You will love Pico Iyer - I would start with "The Lady and the Monk." I love your postings and miss them on days when you can't send. I will surely go into withdrawal when your trip is finished. Love to Meda. -jonathan

[J Whitney]

Mmmmm, semi-ducklings. Yum. Aren't they called Blutes? I remember them from being in similar parts of the world, Never actually ate one though. You have greater intestinal fortitude than I. Thanks for writing the Blog!