One Dollar
Cambodia:
They use dollars. American dollars. Greenbacks. Which, somehow without my knowledge are now purple in some cases. I like to think that some of the dollar bills have the beginnings of consciousness and so they think that Cambodia is America. $7 that I'm taking back with me to the States will be super confused when they hear everyone speaking a version of English that hasn't been chopped up and run through Khmer several times. On the other hand, maybe these bills came to Cambodia after a year in the states, hitching a ride with some blond frat boy turned backpacker and were spent on a massage or a can of Angkor. Maybe they'll be shocked upon their return to the land of opportunity to find they can buy much less here than they could when they left. I hear it's tough to be a dollar in America these days.
Cambodia should be proud to know that its taxis, beggars, and salespeople of all kinds are by far the pushiest out of any I've encountered in all of my travels. Guatemala might come close (interestingly enough, the Guatemalan people have also suffered extreme violent persecution). However, it's also worth noting that for all their pushiness, the Cambodians had the best sense of humor as well.
"You want taxi?"
"No thanks, we're walking."
"Walking one dollar."
"Please come inside shop. Today only it is free to look."
It was probably the craziest at the ruins of Angkor (the most famous being Angkor Wat) where kids would yell at you to buy something from them from 50 feet away and track you down and stick with you until one of you gave up. Everything was a test of wills. Most impressive was how all the sellers could speak equally well in English or French and seemed to know which to yell at you in right away. The crazy part is when you learn that less than 30 years ago the Khmer Rouge order the death of anyone that spoke a foreign language.
And here were the hawkers, trilingually selling me hats, cold drinks, and guide books that I had no intention of buying. It's bizarre to think that they could safely make their living doing something that would've gotten them killed as recently as 1979. Truly an incredible people to be so resilient and adaptive.
I actually did end up buying a hat during my day at Angkor. It was straw, loose fitting and at the end of the day useless to me, so I decided to try selling it back to the hawkers.
"Hello sir, you want to buy guide book?"
"No thanks," I said. "You want to buy my hat?"
"Your hat?"
"Yes," I said. "Very good hat. One dollar."
"Okay," said the girl. "I buy your hat, you buy my hat. Your hat $1, my hat $5!" She cackled. I gave the hat and Sarah and I watched her tossing it up in the air and catching it along with two younger kids.
It's not a bad image to leave on. The ruins of a city, repopulated by tourists and touts every day, deserted every night, and in the middle, a girl throwing a used straw hat up in the air and laughing.
But she probably would've liked one of my self-aware dollar bills better.
They use dollars. American dollars. Greenbacks. Which, somehow without my knowledge are now purple in some cases. I like to think that some of the dollar bills have the beginnings of consciousness and so they think that Cambodia is America. $7 that I'm taking back with me to the States will be super confused when they hear everyone speaking a version of English that hasn't been chopped up and run through Khmer several times. On the other hand, maybe these bills came to Cambodia after a year in the states, hitching a ride with some blond frat boy turned backpacker and were spent on a massage or a can of Angkor. Maybe they'll be shocked upon their return to the land of opportunity to find they can buy much less here than they could when they left. I hear it's tough to be a dollar in America these days.
Cambodia should be proud to know that its taxis, beggars, and salespeople of all kinds are by far the pushiest out of any I've encountered in all of my travels. Guatemala might come close (interestingly enough, the Guatemalan people have also suffered extreme violent persecution). However, it's also worth noting that for all their pushiness, the Cambodians had the best sense of humor as well.
"You want taxi?"
"No thanks, we're walking."
"Walking one dollar."
"Please come inside shop. Today only it is free to look."
It was probably the craziest at the ruins of Angkor (the most famous being Angkor Wat) where kids would yell at you to buy something from them from 50 feet away and track you down and stick with you until one of you gave up. Everything was a test of wills. Most impressive was how all the sellers could speak equally well in English or French and seemed to know which to yell at you in right away. The crazy part is when you learn that less than 30 years ago the Khmer Rouge order the death of anyone that spoke a foreign language.
And here were the hawkers, trilingually selling me hats, cold drinks, and guide books that I had no intention of buying. It's bizarre to think that they could safely make their living doing something that would've gotten them killed as recently as 1979. Truly an incredible people to be so resilient and adaptive.
I actually did end up buying a hat during my day at Angkor. It was straw, loose fitting and at the end of the day useless to me, so I decided to try selling it back to the hawkers.
"Hello sir, you want to buy guide book?"
"No thanks," I said. "You want to buy my hat?"
"Your hat?"
"Yes," I said. "Very good hat. One dollar."
"Okay," said the girl. "I buy your hat, you buy my hat. Your hat $1, my hat $5!" She cackled. I gave the hat and Sarah and I watched her tossing it up in the air and catching it along with two younger kids.
It's not a bad image to leave on. The ruins of a city, repopulated by tourists and touts every day, deserted every night, and in the middle, a girl throwing a used straw hat up in the air and laughing.
But she probably would've liked one of my self-aware dollar bills better.
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