So yes, the weekend acted as a point of pause while I reflected on different possibilities, but mostly tried to keep my mind off all that was happening at home. I read two entire books. I watched three episodes of True Blood. And I had an event that was pulling me through -- a staff boat party on the Tonle Sap river, hosted by our wonderful Deputy Director, Dom and his wife, Benita.
After looking forward to this all day, Jeff and I got on the moto to head in to town around three, just when it started to rain. Let me rephrase that. The very instant I settled myself on the back of the moto and Jeff asked, "Ready?" an eerie calm fell over the sky, the clouds darkened and before we could even make it down Liger's driveway, we were pitched headfirst into a massive monsoon. The rain began to tear from the sky and the wind whipped tremendously. We pulled out of the driveway and made our first left, but after about one minute, it was clear that these were not conditions under which we could safely make it to the boat (a 30-minute drive). We pulled over on the side of the road, seeking shelter underneath a beach-sized umbrella at the edge of someone's driveway. Feeling irritated by our lack of options, since Mr. Da was already being utilized, and frustrated that we hadn't left earlier, we begrudgingly turned around and went home with our tail (moto) between our legs.
After a few hours of rain, things dried up and I started to feel stir-crazy. I asked Jeff if he wanted to go into town for dinner, since I hadn't been out since Friday night. Instead of going all the way into town, we decided to go back to the restaurant where we had our staff dinner the previous week. It is close to Liger, but still far enough away to feel like we are out. After a fifteen minute ride, we parked and walked into Chelsea restaurant. Immediately, we saw some of the waiters who had served us as a whole staff. We smiled, indicated two of us and took a seat. The restaurant has a very open layout, with a laid back atmosphere. One wall features a projection screen playing anything from a Manchester United game to the National Geographic channel to Cambodian music videos. The seating is similar to plastic lawn chairs and there are massive posters on the wall indicating drink specials. You can pretty much drink a keg of beer there for less than five bucks.
I felt the staff become a little bit frazzled when we walked in, but Jeff reassured me and ordered a beer anyway. After a few minutes, we began to wonder if they even had a menu, since the last time we came, Robert's Wonder Woman of an assistant, Navin, had pre-ordered family-style for everyone. Just then, the waiter came over with a menu and a frown on his face. I was still confused as to why there were so many staff members milling around us and smiling awkwardly. As Jeff opened the menu, it became clear. The entire menu was written in Khmer. There was no English and there were no pictures. Shit.
We first decided that we would just finish our beers and then leave to get dinner somewhere else. What we didn't know was that there were already a couple of plans that had been hatched. One involved the owner of the restaurant coming over personally, pulling up a chair and saying in broken English how sorry he was that his restaurant did not "speak English." We promised him that it was okay and tried to explain how we were at just as much fault for not having learned some Khmer. Then, the waiter we most recognized tried. The most we got from him was, "I don't speak English." Okay. But, he also indicated that we should wait ten minutes. Or at least that is what I was able to gather.
A few minutes go by and a man who had just walked in the door, who I assumed was another patron, walked up to us with his cell phone, handed it to Jeff and said, "My brother." This man had called his brother, who apparently spoke English. We were shocked that they were all going so far out of their way to help us idiots who had forgotten their Cambodian-English dictionary on the bedside table. Unfortunately, the man on the other end of the phone was not able to convey our message for fried rice and fish, much as he tried. We thanked the patron profusely. I considered just wandering around the restaurant and pointing to things on other people's tables that looked good, but before I could act, Jeff suggested that we call Navin. Of course. So, we dialed Navin, who works tirelessly and with a genuine smile on her face to oversee all projects big and small that make Liger run smoothly. She, of course, was home on a Sunday night after a week of working close to 60 hours. Navin was happy to help and laughed when she heard our predicament.
Less than thirty minutes later we were eating delicious sweet and sour fish piled with grilled peppers, onions and pineapple, spicy but crunchy morning glories and delicious vegetable fried rice. Our beers were refilled after every sip and kept icy cold*.
*Most beer in this country is served with ice. Even if you try to avoid having ice put in your beer, you pretty much can't. As soon as you drop your gaze to take a bite, those sneaky ice people are over your shoulder plopping a huge, misshapen ice cube into your beer, almost to the point of overflow. They also get a little mad if you don't drink your beer fast enough...
Jeff and I remarked during dinner on the trouble that these people had gone to when they realized that we didn't speak Khmer. We thought about what the reception is like for a Khmer speaker
in the U.S. and how many times people are treated rudely and with disrespect when they don't speak English. I would wager to say that the people who are the MOST often disrespected in this way are from an Asian country. It was just another example of how welcoming and genuinely considerate Cambodian people are.
Below are some pics of Navin -- she's pretty much the best thing ever.
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