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Cambodian surprise

A Mumbaikar goes off the beaten path to Cambodia, and comes away impressed by its friendly people and overall beauty.
by Sujata Garimella

Who hasn’t been fascinated by the exquisitely wild temples in Lara Croft: The Tomb Raider? Cambodia captured the world’s imagination with that movie. Angelina Jolie did more for making the country known than any other person not only via the movie but also by her high-profile adoption of a Cambodian boy (Maddox) around that time. Having got on to the international consciousness, Cambodia got a further fillip with the United Nations and their work with landmine victims/survivors in the country. This was publicity, albeit of the unsavoury kind – but hey, no news is bad news. Between these two, Cambodia became a beacon for the adventure-hungry and the sympathy-pourers and soon became the world’s most visited ‘off-beat’ destination.

My fascination with Cambodia started a few decades earlier, with the cover of a Reader’s Digest Travel book. The cover had a huge stone structure of a face facing four directions. Having noted that this was in Cambodia, the country piqued my interest. Over the years, other tidbits flowed into my consciousness: Angkor Wat in Cambodia was a Hindu Temple; Angkor Wat is the largest Hindu Temple complex and monument in the world; Angkor Wat is not only the largest Hindu Temple complex and monument, it is also the largest religious complex and monument in the world. Yes, most of the nuggets had to do with Angkor Wat but what was even more curious was: how did Hinduism find its way to such a distant land without war or occupation?

A visit to Cambodia was on the top of my bucket list, for sure. When this happened, it was probably the most exciting trip of my life. Since I was travelling with my mother, I went there not as a traveller but as a tourist i.e. it was not a backpacking-adventure-exploration kind of trip, but a planned, comfortable one.

Getting there

Siem Reap AirportDisembarking at Siam Reap, where Angkor Wat is, was thrilling. It helped that the airport was built in a quaint fashion instead of the normal tall steel-and-glass buildings (see pic on left). It is also at the airport that I got to know that Cambodia offers visa on arrival. (Since these rules keep changing it is best to recheck before you visit and always safer to travel with a visa from your home country.)

Checking into the hotel was pain-free and the Cambodians were refreshingly friendly. With tourism being the mainstay of the economy of Siam Reap, most people speak English and are very welcoming of tourists. The downside of any place existing on tourism (whether Cambodia or Egypt) is the expectation and tacit demand for tips. Be prepared and be ready. While you can exchange dollars for the local currency (Riel) at the airport, Cambodians always quote prices in dollars to tourists. In fact, they shy away from accepting their local currency from tourists.

Discovering the place

There was only half a day left after check-in and negotiation with a tourist guide-cum-driver for hiring the car for the entire duration of the stay so visiting the temples was out for that day. On probing, the driver mentioned a floating village that we could visit. At a cost of $30 dollars (a rip-off because I have since learnt that this is available for $15) we were set. Reaching the embarkation point, we were given a huge boat. The boatman also doubled as a guide and we set off in a narrow waterway.

The ‘lake’ was a narrow-gauge waterway; the water, brown and dirty. The boatman pointed out a floating school and a floating basketball court. Just when we were laughing at ourselves and the ‘floating village’ that we were passing by the water opened up into a vast, seemingly endless water body – the Tonle Sap Great Lake Basin. It was a breathtaking sight. Tonle Sap is the largest freshwater lake in Southeast Asia. The boatman claimed that this lake was fed by rivers from three countries. While this may not be entirely true, it is a fact that its upstream drainage basin spans five countries. He pointed out a notional line in the water (like our Mac Mohan Line with China) stating that from that point it was Vietnam.

We glided through a village in the water complete with houses, stores, a restaurant and a church in speechless wonder. The villagers used coracles or large plastic and aluminium Floating Village_bowls as their medium of transport. Since we were there in the evening, we were treated to a wonderful sunset, too. On the return journey, the narrow waterway didn’t seem as dirty anymore – the human mind surely is wonderful!

Disembarking brought another surprise. Three or four people swarmed around us with saucer-pictures of us. They took our pictures between the time we got off and to the point we set off, chose the ones that were most clear and printed them on the saucers by the time we came back. Since this was a novelty to me, after some hard bargaining, I bought all three for about $4.

While Angkor Wat, Bayon and the outstanding temple of the tree are spectacular, a trip to Siam Reap would be incomplete without a visit to Tonle Sap – it is a hidden jewel.

Have you recently taken a trip to a place you always dreamed of going to? Tell us about it at editor@themetrognome.in.

(Pictures courtesy Sujata Garimella)

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Outside In

The colour of me

Shweyta Mudgal was thrilled to know that Americans coveted her skin colour – and then her ‘fair’-skinned daughter was born.

My grandmother has been dark-skinned all her life. The colour of milk chocolate!

Her daughter – my mother, has always been light-complexioned; alabaster-like, like the colour of daylight on a beautiful morning!

Me – when I was born I am told I was somewhere between ochre and honey. Until I decided to go out and ‘play in the sun’ every day, ending up a shade of burnt sienna for most of my childhood. Once the sun-play stopped and I moved out of India to the States, my colour lightened and became what it is now (as suggested by the make-up world) – wheatish medium-toned.

My daughter was born the colour of peaches and cream. Mixed together, in the exact proportion, to form a flawless light creamish-pink colour that I refer to as ‘baby blush.’ Over the course of the past 19 months of her life, she has managed to keep just enough sun under her skin to move on to more peach and less cream, in the process being labelled the “fairest one of them all” in the family palette.

Evidently, the skin-tone lineage in our family, studied over the cross-section of its surviving generations, clearly alternates between dark and light. For instance, in a picture taken standing between them, I am the brown vada between the light-coloured pavs that are my mother and daughter. No surprise then, in an openly in-your-face kind of society such as ours in India, I looked back confounded when faced with this recurring query throughout my childhood: “How come you are so dark while your mother is so fair?” (That my name also literally means ‘white’ in Sanskrit didn’t help at all. Really! What were you thinking, Mom?)

This oft-asked question had affected me enough, I am told, to have created one of the funniest childhood memories of my life. My juvenile brain had finally decided, one fine day, that the solution lay in mommy’s home-whipped white butter. She still cracks up when she recounts how she found me sitting on the kitchen floor with butter smeared all over my face one evening. All this, so I could be as fair as she was!

While the fascination with human skin colour has been of much interest and intrigue to Indians for eons (more so for women, the so-called ‘lighter sex’), it has taken on insane levels in some other Asian countries. Vietnam, for instance.

Creams, fairness gels, deodorants, soaps, moisturisers and even pills that make skin-lightening promises abound on the shelves of convenience stores and supermarkets alike, all over this country. In sultry, humid and 100 deg F (roughly 37 deg C) temperatures in Saigon, women can be seen covered head to toe (for no religious reason), dressed in jeans or slacks, face masks (that double up into anti-pollution and anti-sun barriers) and long-sleeved hand gloves – all in an attempt to shield their skin from the sun.

If you asked their darker Cambodian neighbours, they wondered: why the fuss? After all, they would ask, aren’t the Vietnamese already fair enough? Makes for a good pun, that phrase there, but the Vietnamese, on the other hand, will tell you, ‘fair enough’’ is not good enough!

The significance of being ‘white’ (bordering on albino-like sometimes, what with all the lightening products and procedures available in today’s market) in the cultural paradigm of Asian countries, is enormous. Not just on the socio-economic level but on a global identity level – where Asian women, in their quest for beauty, are trying to achieve the colour of their Caucasian counterparts. In Asia, ‘whiteness’ of the skin has always been directly proportional to beauty and affluence. A dark or tanned skin belonged to a worker toiling in the fields all day, thus reflecting poverty, physical hard work and a socially inferior status.

This obsessive pursuit of fairness leads to accidents, as well. For instance, in today’s day and age, with countless fairness products made available to them, women of the lower social strata in countries like Cambodia often resort to making uninformed choices. Partly due to their ignorance and partly due to the products’ unaffordability, they end up buying cheap skin lighteners, the application of which results in severe skin damage and even death in some cases, on account of their high mercury and/or lead content.

My analysis of this fairness craze has brought me to establish my own hypothesis – all we want is to be like our neighbours on the left. Take a look at the map of Asia – this pursuit of fairness starts from India, Bangladesh, Burma, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, Indonesia, Cambodia and the Philippines, who wouldn’t mind going a few shades lighter, say, like the Vietnamese. The Vietnamese, Chinese, Taiwanese and South Koreans would prefer going still whiter like the neighbours on their left, the Japanese. And the Japanese, not content with their high rank on the Asian shade card, are vying for the Caucasian-like radiance of the Americans (the white Americans, to be specific).

The Americans, infamous for doing things diametrically opposite to the rest of the world, obviously wouldn’t mind bartering their ‘ivoriness’ for some ‘colour’, the pursuit of which leads them to natural or unnatural tanning practices. Tanning of the skin is their equivalent of ‘whiteness’ in Asians, in terms of desirability.

While most Westerners tan naturally by simply lying under the sun, usually by the pool, on the beach or on a lawn, the more popular method that Americans prefer is that of cosmetically tanning themselves indoors, on a bed or in a booth in a tanning salon. Either way, the tan is achieved by exposing one’s skin to UV radiation; the overexposure of which can adversely affect one’s health causing skin cancer (melanoma), cataracts, premature aging and wrinkling of the skin, etc.

Having sun-kissed skin is so highly coveted in the West, that to my surprise, I found myself at the receiving end of compliments, in school here, for being the colour that I am. It was ironic! To be appreciated for something that one had been chided for in their growing years, naturally felt wonderful!

To me, America became the land that loved and welcomed coloured skin, non-judgmentally. Granted, this nation was not always this colour-uncoded, going by its history, and that parts of it are still not as non-discriminatory. Yet, I found that overall, cities such as Los Angeles, New York, Chicago and several others celebrated their colour diversity. I had classmates, school staff and co-workers telling me they wished they had some of my colour. That for the first time, someone wanted to be – the colour of me!

The natural Asian tan was a coveted one in America. Here, hues of black, brown, tan, olive, yellow and white seemed to co-exist in harmony, often blurring lines and blending in with each other to create new shades. Black and white marriages yielded light brown babies, as did brown and white marriages. Yellow and white marriages resulted in white babies with Asian features, or vice versa. This was the Land of Colour, yet free of Colourism! Here, the Colour Code did not apply to me anymore. Finally, I had been set free!

Until the day my peaches-and-cream daughter was born. And I took her out for her first walk by the Hudson river. A much elder mother-daughter duo, probably of Asian origin, stopped to admire the little one. “She’s beautiful. And soooo fair!” they said as I smiled, opening my mouth to say, “Thanks!” and gracefully accept the compliment. Until they looked me up and down and added, “Is she your daughter?”

What can I say? I am always going to be her nanny!

A Mumbaikar by birth and a New Yorker by choice, recently-turned global nomad Shweyta Mudgal is currently based out of Singapore. An airport designer by day, she moonlights as a writer. ‘Outside In’ is a weekly series of expat diaries, reflecting her perspective of life and travel, from the outside-in. She blogs at www.shweyta.blogspot.com and loves being referred to as her daughter’s nanny by unsuspecting strangers. 

(Picture courtesy bellasugar.com)

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Outside In

“Oh, sorry, but I have to go….”

Is invading one’s ‘personal space’ a phenomenon unique to Mumbai? Shweyta Mudgal found far-flung Cambodia guilty of the same crime.

He: “How old is she?”

Me: (looking at Z-star who could easily pass off to be two or older) “A year and a half.”

He: “Only one?”

Me: (Wow, is she coming across as such a brat already?) “Yes, she is the only one.”

He: When you have one more?

Me: Umm..What? (More like a ‘What just happened kind of a WHAT?’)

He: You should have more baby.

Me: (Sheepish smile) Sure! Oh, sorry, but I have to go….

And just like that I vamoosed out of the store, dodging for the tenth time probably, another conversation that could’ve gone down the ‘personal’ route, in this country full of inquisitive locals – Cambodia.

Each time I’d had this kind of an episode, in the past one week of being here, it had always been with a local I’d just met. Not even two minutes into the conversation, I’d been asked when I was planning on having Baby No. 2. Interestingly ‘If’ I was planning on it or not, did not seem like an option. And my answer had always been an amused, reassuring, “Sure!” after which I’d fled, hoping to become a face in the crowd of crazy two-wheeler traffic on the busy streets of Cambodia.

The Khmer (Cambodians) are a simple, warm, happy, self-contented, generous lot. An immensely likeable clan that seems to have no apparent notions of modern-day personal space invasion. Perhaps it’s their genuine innocence; being a by-product of a culture that is largely untouched by Western exposure, thus bereft of modern-world spatial concepts, such as personal space. They nonchalantly inquire off of strangers; information that in most cultures, may be regarded as personal and hence, not-to-be-revealed. They are not trying to probe, they are just following what they think is the acceptable course of social norm.

Growing up in India, one masters the art of answering all sorts of personal questions; about one’s own life and even that of others sometimes. Hubster notes, it all starts when strangers/random neighbours feel the need to inquire about your (and your neighbours) examination scores. On the non-academia side there are the “When are you getting married? When are you having kids? When is your little daughter going to have a brother or a sister? kind of endless inquisitions that one is faced with, depending on what stage of life they are at.

To a point, I could handle this inquiry into my personal life while I lived there (mostly by virtue of a theory of diversion – routing the conversation to another topic altogether, gradually fleeing the scene with a time-constraint excuse. “Oh Sorry Uncle, but I have to go….” It always works!). And of course, it helped that I was brought up being answerable only to my parents (as against in some other cases, the extended families/elderly neighbors etc), which made it really easy to disregard, sometimes impolitely so, any such over-the-top inquisition.

The line between a personal question and a public one; questions that should not be asked v/s those that can be, is a blurry one. And since public speculation in India is always at an all-time high, how one deals with these can sometimes matter.

Moving out of India to the United States threw this enormous gush of personal space in my face. Perhaps much more than what I needed. Here, neighbors didn’t care who I was, who I went out with or what I wore. The only time they’d acknowledge me is when we were forced to spend some time behind closed doors together – in elevators. (Although I have taken many an elevator ride, up Manhattan high-rises, with quiet, screen-staring copassengers, who will just not talk! Carrying around an animal or a baby helps break that ice, I’ve noticed). While this ‘I am-too-busy-to-care-about-you’ attitude can be largely liberating, at times, it can also make one miss the friendly next door Aunty who could bring you comfort food when you’re sick and home alone, taking back some personal dope from you in return.

Having spent the last decade of my life in my city of true liberty – NYC, has naturally altered my patience with respect to answering personal questions. Occasional trips back to India from there, over the years, would be short and sweet, although they did entail some brushing up of the art of fielding personal inquiries.

But now, with my current ‘tri-city-living-cum-global-nomad-lifetsyle’, various cultures of the world fling themselves upon me regularly, causing a confusing juxtapositioned web, that in classic Hindi movie dialogue-of-dislocation style, makes me go “Main kahan hoon?” every other week. And so, I am caught off-guard when a trip to some foreign land throws at me more intimate questions than what I’ve faced growing up in India.

Even now, there seems to be only one best exit strategy – my most tried and tested theory of diversion, followed by an “Oh, sorry, but I have to go….”

A Mumbaikar by birth and a New Yorker by choice, recently-turned global nomad Shweyta Mudgal is currently based out of Singapore. An airport designer by day, she moonlights as a writer. ‘Outside In’ is a weekly series of expat diaries, reflecting her perspective of life and travel, from the outside-in. She also blogs at www.shweyta.blogspot.com.

 (Picture courtesy stockpicturesforeveryone.com)

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