DEATH IN CAMBODIA (Part 1)

My Cambodian Story will be a series of misadventures. Feel free to comment. Comments that make me smile will get custom-made Flashbacks from the Flashpacker items.


You wake up to what you think are  monks chanting right outside your door. Could you really be in Cambodia? 

You get up and see TC, your perennial travel companion, still  slumped in your room's queen-sized bed, recovering from travel exhaustion. Though Siem Reap is barely three hours away from Manila, all the packing, airport transfers, waiting in airports, and immigration clearance take a substantial amount of your precious vacation time.


Petit Villa Room
http://petitvilla.com/

It's 7AM. Your first morning in Cambodia. Still a little concerned about the monks chanting, you open your hotel room's door. 

Immaculate: the hotel's swimming pool is just one cartwheel away.  Petit Villa has less than ten units, all facing towards the pool. It is more of a resort really, than a hotel. And being tucked in a quiet residential area, about 10-minutes away from Pub Street, you couldn't ask for a more relaxing vacation. 

What you see upon
opening your hotel room door

It was drizzling, so you had to be extra careful walking to the front desk to ask for coffee. You had to dodge all sorts of tropical flora. Yes, you feel like you are in the middle of a forest. With a pool.

Petit Villa's Pool

"Good morning," Sophea, one of the male hotel receptionists greets you.

"Good morning,"  the chanting in the air continues, "do you have any iced coffee?," you ask him, still half asleep.

"Yes, we have. I offer for you," he replies with a genuine Khmer smile. 

It's a jungle out there!

You have no idea what "offer" means in this part of the world, so you just smile. Sophea excitedly talks about upgrading your room since the AC was having its minor problems since you arrived. 

Now, who wouldn't say NO to a coffee offer and a room upgrade? And your vacation has just started!

You return to your room's terrace, just right by the pool. A day bed and two bamboo beach beds make you realize this is going to be the most relaxing vacation you probably will ever have. 

Theara, the uber-friendly
hotel staff

A couple of minutes after, Theara, the uber-friendly Creative Director aka Chef aka Room Service Attendant of the resort appears out of nowhere, with a huge smile on his face: two glasses of free iced coffee! By the pool! You tip him with whatever bill you have in your pocket: a dollar. Yup, they use USD in this part of the world. For workers whose average daily wage is $1-$2, that'd probably be equal to what he's going to make today.

The sound of monks chanting  continues. Raindrops kiss the 

Should you swim?

leaves of all the trees in the resort. Water from tubes cause ripples in the pool. 

As you wait for TC to get up, you lay on the yellow day bed covered with sequins. And while contemplating whether you'll start drinking TC's iced coffee too (yup, it is delish, you finished your glass in five minutes), Sopharith, the hotel manager, a 40-something soft-spoken skinny guy (everybody in Siem Reap is, you feel obese) walks up to your veranda.

Sopharith (S): We are really sorry for the inconvenience. Thank you for letting us know.

TC and Teddy
by the pool 

Jay, The Flashpacker (J): The air-conditioner wasn't working last night.

S: We are fixing other room for you. 

J: Is the air-conditioner stronger in that room?

S: Yes. And if you want, you can have massage anytime you want.

J: But you already promised us free massage. 

You were referring to the freebies promised in your booking confirmation.

Breakfast with TC

S: You can have lunch or dinner. 

I was waiting for him to mention the  operative word: free. All these freebies make you feel you'll be bankrupting the hotel any moment.

S: Later too, we have ceremony for the mother of the owner. She very sick.

Free Breakfast:
Fried Pork
Fruit Platter
Coffee

J: Oh, is that what the music is for? Referring to the monks chanting, you thought was part of everyday Cambodian life.

S: Oh no. That different. That music, Khmer instruments. Buddhist ceremony. For good luck and long life.

J: So there is another ceremony for the mother later?

S: Yes, here at the restaurant at 3pm. 

J: That's for the funeral?


S: No, for the mother of the owner who is sick.

You and your big mouth: The mother is still alive. <Insert sound of crickets here.>

J: I'm sorry... Ugh, Can we join the ceremony? Can we take pictures?

S: Yeah sure.

J: Isn't that disrespectful?

S: No, that's ok. We will take pictures too. There will be monks and they say prayer for the old lady because she in surgery for long time.

J: How old is she?


S: Maybe 69-70. Are you Buddhist?

J: No, I'm Christian. 

A golden halo appears above my head. <Insert "ting" sound here.>

S: Oh, because in Buddhist, before people pass away, they make list of bad things they did. Like if they hit animal or problem with mother. Because after they pass away, there's hill.

My eyebrows meet each other. Hill. Maybe in their afterlife, there are fields of wild flowers and all these wild trees on a hill.

Sensing i dont get it, Sopharith continues:

S: Maybe they go to hill or they go to heaven. 

Aaaah. I get it.

J: So maybe later, after we change room (at this point, my English is Cambodianized) we ask for the tuktuk driver to take us around. Do you have a mall? Or a market?

S: You can go to old market. But it's not clean.

J: Is it safe?

Superman AKA
Your Tuktuk driver

S: Yeah

J: As long as it's safe, I am okay with not clean.

S: And you can go to Lucky Mall. Where there is a grocery and expensive clothes.

No, you are not rich. 

He probably thinks you are. 

But the hole in your shorts should've given that away. ●

Seoul Series: The Legend of Kwek

You and TC goofing around in
Star Avenue, Lotte World

June 2011. "He's asking what Korean words you know," Wendy, your South Korean friend, asks, while comfy in the taxi's passenger seat. She is doing a very good  job being your interpreter on your second visit to Seoul.

"Saranghae," you reply, pronouncing the last syllable with a short E sound. SA-RANG-HE: Love. In Korean. The cab driver seems impressed. Wendy translates, "He says your accent is good." You wish. All these Korean vowel sounds are too difficult and too similar-sounding, you could barely remember the lyrics in a K-Pop song.

At Star Ave,
Lotte World
Belting out "Time After Time"

The road on the way to Daehangno from Jamsil is a little bit jammed. You and TC, your favorite travel buddy, just visited Lotte World just to check out Star Avenue, the K-Pop Museum where you got to sing in front of the staff (who politely applauded after your Time After Time rendition), dubbed a Koreanovela, and posed for a for-a-fee photo-op wearing an ancient Korean warrior costume.

The taxi ride took about over half an hour, as you needed to get to north of the Han River. Jamsil is is south of the river, an area which you have hardly visited. 

Wendy and the taxi driver

TC spots a street market as you get to Hyehwah. You ask Wendy to tell the driver to stop the taxi. You hand him two Korean Won 10,000 bills (about $10) and he gave you the exact change: as in the EXACT change,  down to the last won. Taxi drivers in  Korea find it weird if you tip them, so you don't.

It is summer in Seoul. You are happy you didn't have to wear that thick bubble jacket you had to fit in your luggage in your previous trip here last year. 

Filipino Market
in Hyehwah:
Open Sundays

"Is this the Filipino Market?," Wendy asks TC. 

"Looks like it is," as TC starts to walk ahead of you to marvel at all these Pinoy products on sale, here in South Korea. 

"Ate, magkano ang pancit canton?", you ask two giggling Filipinas who reply that it's W1,000 per pack, about a dollar each. Everything is overpriced, if you convert but business is business, after all.

The Filipino Market is in Hyehwa, which Wendy pronounces as Hey-Wah. It is in Central Seoul and is accessible via the subway on Line 4 (Hyehwa Station). This flea market, only open on Sundays (as of that time) is located in a vibrant neighborhood surrounded by universities, cafes, restaurants, and mini-theaters. It sells Pinoy food, both cooked on the spot or packed and imported from the Philippines. The crowd is a mixture of Filipinos and Koreans.

"Wendy, have you tried chicharon?," you ask her, after spotting some pork cracklings, neatly arranged on a table in one of the stalls. You struggled explaining what it really is but Wendy is all good after hearing it is pork. You hand the manong W4,000 ($4). 

Wendy and TC eating chicharon at
The Filipino Market

"Kuya, walang libreng suka?". You ask him if it does not come with vinegar, which is chicharon's best partner. The vendor points to a Datu Puti bottle, which you have to buy and will apparently cost you more than the chicharon. Wendy starts eating the prok rinds, which you discover seconds after, is made in Thailand after all. 

Little theater (top photo);
Coffee Stop at Cafe Jubilee

You find a little road that swarms with young people. This seems to be their version of University Belt. A big sign says you are in Sangmyung University Art Center and somewhere around is the Seongkyunkwan University, a school established in the year 1398. The area has so many little theaters, but you settle to have some coffee at a chocolate bar - yup, a "bar" that sells chocolates: Cafe Jubilee Chocolatier. Think Starbucks but they sell chocolates too, which by the way, they'd make you taste for free first, by giving you a smaller version of the real thing - tiny cubes which melt in your mouth, while you close your eyes, imagining a visit to Willy Wonka.

After finishing your coffee and chocolate cubes, without any specific destination, you continue your journey having ticked the Filipino Market off your list. Now what? You are back on the main road, a couple of meters away from the subway station when you see a a park. What the heck, why don't you try a walk in the park this perfect Korean summer afternoon? 

There has got to be at least two hundred people in Marronnier Park. Men, women, kids, and students all enjoying this fine Sunday afternoon, because after all, a few months from now, all they will see may just be snow.

You and Wendy
at Marronnier Park

Street Performer, in pink

TC spotting a street performance

The Korean version of Hep Hep Hooray

It looks like they are going to play a game. 

It looks like the host just explained the mechanics.

It looks like the audience are excited, as everyone started to applause.

It looks like the game has started: they are all shouting a one-syllable word which is a bit inaudible for you as you are about 15 meters away from the game players and the hosts.

It looks like the crowd is enjoying as they all clap whenever someone gets eliminated.

It looks like there are only a few men standing.

It looks like the game will just continue until someone wins, until the unthinkable happens.

It looks like the host just pointed at you.

You look back, hoping the show's host spotted a Korean. But it looks like he is really pointing at you.

The host explaining
game mechanics to you

You point to your chest, looking at the host, and stutter, "Mm-mm-me?". But no voice comes out.

The host smiles, "Yes!"

"Ikaw daw!," TC nudges you.

You tell your legs to walk towards the makeshift stage - the center of the crowd. "I don't speak Korean," you tell the host, while getting closer to the hot spot. 

"It's okay. Where are you from?", the host asks you. You look around - hundreds of South Koreans cheering and clapping. "Philippines!"

The host asks you to sit on a stone bench while giving you the game instructions in bullet points, which you hardly catch. He tells you to position yourself in the middle of the line. You feel like a kid, because all the other guys must at least be 5'10".

The six contestants for
The Marronnier Park
Battle of the Kwek

Now, there are six men in front of the crowd and the game starts. From  what you understand, this is similar to Wow Wow Wee's Hep Hep Hooray. All contestants including you, have to link their arms, forming a human chain, like in a street protest. The game starts. Let's do this!

The rightmost guy, the first one, starts, shouts "Kwek" to the guy on his left. And when you say shout, it really means an eardrum-breaking shout.

Okay, so this game might be called The Kwek Game.

The host clarifying
instructions

The second guy does the same. So does the third. You are the fourth. You get ready and just follow the pattern. When it gets to the sixth and last, leftmost guy, the chain goes back. 

But wait. The fifth guy shouts "Kwek" back to the sixth guy and they take forever just shouting at each other. Now you get it. You can choose who to pass the turn to.

The Kwek chain goes back to you, and you choose the guy in pink on your right. When it comes back, you pass it to the fifth, and for some reason you failed to catch, the last guy is out.

The crowd giggles and you hear clapping and cheers again. The sixth guy leaves the "stage". You are so not in last place!

And then there were five.

Now confused, you and the third guy (in pink) engage on a half a minute long Kwek shouting match. Impatient, you pass it on to the fifth guy on your left instead, who passes it back to you, which you pass on to the third guy again (in pink), who unfortunately passes it back to you.

In the middle of all the shouts from the crowd and the confusion as to how you will be "out", the game stops. It looks like you made a major, major Kwek mistake. The reason  is something only the Koreans understood. And you are officially out of the game.

After shouting Kamsamnida to the audience.
Looks like your competitors are 
relieved you are out of the game

To save face, you raise your hands to the audience and shout "Kamsamnida! Thank you!". All the audience members were clapping and cheering and you feel like being eliminated from the Olympics swimming semifinals.

You walk back to TC and Wendy. "It's embarassing!," you tell them, but thy were both laughing as if telling you that you did a good job. Well fifth out of six is not bad at all, considering you hardly understood the objective of the game.

You enjoyed every second of Kwek!

The game finishes and the host bursts into song. He finishes singing, crowd disperses, and people started walking up to the performer's guitar case, dropping their Korean won, as tip. You drop a couple of W1,000 bills.

As you head out to the main road of of Maronnier Park, you curiously ask Wendy, "So what does Kwek mean?"

Wendy, who already looks bored and sleepy, languidly replies, "Oh, it's the sound of a duck!" ●

THE END

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Saturday, 12NN, Sept 22nd, Manila Time. 

Minneapolis Mystery: The Basement

Minneapolis Skyline

Based on a true story

October 2001

"Geez man," Joy complains of the cold, as she tightens her black trench coat and places her hand in its jacket's pockets. It is a beautiful Friday evening. 

You open the hotel door for her. Autumn breeze brushes your face. You close your eyes, as you zip your dark gray bubble jacket up.

Anyone who'd see you at this hour would know the two of you are not from anywhere around here. The two of you already feel like you are freezing. 

"Must be around 40-ish," you guess, as it was about 50 degrees Fahrenheit two hours earlier, according to the news.

"Taxi!", Joy screams, hands still in her pockets, as a yellow cab passes Oakwood, where you and rest of  your colleagues are staying.

You and Joy on your
second day in Minneapolis

"They couldn't hear you, duh," and you demonstrate how to hail a cab, complete with hand gestures as you shout "Taxi". The next cab zooms past you. Occupied. Joy secretly giggles.

"Shall we just walk?", you ask her, as you rub your hands together in front of your mouth.

Joy stands still. She takes a deep breath and looks around. She extends her neck like a giraffe and looks down the street where Marquette and 11th Street meet. She smiles and exclaims, "There!"

You didn't realize there is a taxi queue, right across Hilton.

You get in the cab and tell the Somali driver to bring you to The Saloon, a dance club on Hennepin Avenue. It's going to be your second time in two weeks here. 

The Saloon

Three minutes later, you find yourself  showing your passports to The Saloon's bouncer. You pay the cover and enter. You hand your jacket to the androgynous receptionist at the coat check. You and Joy mumble your thank you's as you hand her (or him) two bucks each.

The Saloon, from where you stand, has a dance floor and a seating area, dissected by a big bar in the middle. There is an area at the back for karaoke and arcade games.

You light up a stick of Winston Lights, from your last pack, which you had to bring from Manila as the price of cigarettes in America is ridiculous.

Joy, without saying anything, takes your free drink stub from your left hand as you light your cig up.

"Heineken?". It was more of a declarative statement than a question.

Surprised, you just nod as you scan the crowd. About half the crowd is Asians - probably Cambodians, Chinese, Vietnamese and Hmong. You swear to your life that you and Joy  are the only Filipinos in the club.

You spot a familiar face and you half-smile, while raising your brows: Pete, a friend of John's, one of the first friends you made in the City of Lakes. Pete is Asian too.

"It's John's friend," you scream at Joy's ear, as Britney's "Slave for You" envelops the entire club. She gives you a bewildered look.  Oops, she doesn't know John, you forgot.

"Pete, right?". You shake his hand. He says "Hey" and you proceed to formalities of Joy-this-is-Pete-introductions.

"You've seen John around?", you ask Pete. You try lip-reading his answer, since Mary J. Blige's "Family Affair" draws cheers from the crowd. 

All you could decipher is his NO. 

You thank Pete and pull Joy farther from the thickening crowd. You are both getting claustrophobic. It's half past nine and in about three hours, they'd be announcing the last call. After all, it's Minnesota. You suddenly miss Manila's party-till-you-drop scene.

"J, you want another drink," Joy yells at you, before finishing the last drop of her beer. You are about to nod when Pete approaches. In his Chinese-accented English, he asks, "Wanna go to a...?". The next couple of words are too faint to be heard, due to the loud dance music. He repeats, " To a party?"

Saint Paul & Minneapolis:
The Twin Cities

Startled, you reach for Joy, who is about four feet away, about to order your next round of drinks.

"Joy, Pete's asking if we wanna go to a party?"

Half-surprised and half-excited, Joy asks, "Where?"

Pete lip-reads good, as he moves closer to you and Joy, "It's jut a couple of miles away, in Saint Paul. Just the next city"

You and Joy do not think twice. You know Saint Paul is Minneapolis' twin city. As if you were in a movie scene, you both mutter, "SURE!", forgetting your supervisors' warning not to wander too far from downtown.

Five minutes later, you find yourself in the passenger seat of Pete's car, with Joy behind you.

"So, Pete, how far is it?", Joy asks as she struggles to check all the signs on the freeway, with no luck. 

"Maybe ten more minutes", Pete replies with a blank face, while he keeps his eyes fixed on the road.

"Aren't you scared?", Pete asks, waiting for either Joy or me to answer.

You chuckle, "We've probably been on scarier roads." Not that there are no lights on I-94. It's just weird for you and your slightly gullible friend Joy to be in the car of someone you hardly know, in an unfamiliar city, at this hour.

"So you know where we're going?", Pete asks us.

"I've seen Saint Paul on a map," Joy exclaims, and the two of us laugh.

We get to our destination. Pete parks before a quiet apartment building. Joy is paranoid: "So how do we get home?", she questions me. Before you could say that you'll just call a cab and to not worry, Pete already offers, "I'll take you guys home, don't worry". Wow, Bionic Ears.

Pete knocks on the door. A Caucasian guy in his late 20s opens it, hugs Pete, and introduces himself to you and Joy. You fail to catch his name.

Joy whispers, "It's pretty quiet for a party, don't you think?" You shrug your shoulders.

What you see next is a little unusual: party guests, maybe six or seven, all sleeping in the living room, some on the carpeted floor, some in the couch.

Minneapolis at night

Pete's friend (PF) offers a drink and all you can say is, "Ok, thanks."

As PF hands you and Joy your drink, Joy couldn't help but say, "Looks like we are late for the party!"

PF laughs. Pete, with a mysterious smile, assures us, "Don't worry, after your drink, we can go." There is a certain coldness in his voice.

PF excuses himself to call someone. You and Pete try to be friendly, with the normal conversation starters, like how long will you be in Minnesota, and all sorts of questions about your job and why you and Joy are in Minneapolis.

Joy whispers to your ear, "PF is asking his friends to come over. He told them he's got some cute Asians here." You just give her a weird look.

Pete looks at PF after he sees Joy whispering something to you. Probably sensing something, he finishes his drink straight-up and follows PF, who is now t the kitchen, trying to get some more beer from the fridge. You see them talking and it looks like we are calling it a night. You ask Joy to hurry up and finish her drink, even if you hardly touched yours. Your mom always warned you about drink spiking. Yes, you have some serious trust issues.

Pete and PF hug each other. You thank PF. You and Joy walk ahead of Pete as they seem to be talking about something serious. You hear a faint "Bye Ken" as you approach Pete's car.

Pete catches up and apologizes for the party being over. Joy doesn't care, she's had a free drink. She is pretty happy to save five bucks. 

You find it a little unusual that Pete wants to go, after PF was on the phone with his friend.

Before getting on the freeway, Pete asks Joy, whose eyes are glued to the street lamps, "Sleepy, Joy?"

"I'm good", she answers him, with  an I-don't-wanna-go-home-yet tone.

A little tired, you close your eyes a bit, as you buckle up, forgetting to do so five blocks ago.

Image from Wikipedia

And then, Pete, out of nowhere, suggests that we head to his house in Edina, a Minneapolis suburb, which, according to him, is about twenty minutes away. 

Since he promised to drive us home anyway, we agreed. You check your watch. A little past eleven. 

Before you exit on MN-62, you catch a glimpse of your exit name: France Avenue. Pete parks his car beside an older one on the driveway, in front of a medium-sized house in a quiet community. He whispers and requests that you be quiet. He says his grandma is asleep. Pete unlocks their front door.

On the way here, Joy has asked what we could possibly do while hanging out. Pete says he's got some banana vodka, which sealed the deal.

Pete does not turn on the lights. The house was dark, with only light coming from outside guiding our way to the basement. It smells like dried Chinese herbs and spices. Maybe Grandma's. 

Pete is still careful not only with his voice but also with his steps. As if following the leader, you also tiptoe downstairs. 

The hall when we got to the basement is darker. And for some reason, Pete  is not turning the lights on. You could see Pete's figure walking further down the hall to what looks like a door. He opens it. And at last, he turns the room's lights on.

You and Joy at Downtown Minneapolis
Two weeks before the incident

You and Joy take a deep breath, as you make yourself comfortable in the room. There is a single bed  and a couch to your right, a small center table, and another door to your left, probably the bathroom.

Pete gets out of the room and returns in half a minute, with plastic cups and a bottle of banana vodka, which he hands over to Joy. She gladly accepts and starts reading the label, as you start to feel a little warmer and decide to remove your jacket.

"You guys want some pizza?", Pete politely asks. You both nod and Pete says he'll be back in a minute. 

"You okay?", you ask Joy, who now looks a bit sleepy. She tells you she is fine.

"Why didn't Pete want to stay at PF's when he learned that his friends were coming?", you curiously ask her.

All Joy can say is, "I find that weird too." She takes a sip of banana vodka. 

"Now what if Pete...", you stop and look at the door, your heart, racing. Then you attempt to turn it down, "Now, what if Pete... is a psycho?"

Joy, who is taking another sip, chokes. She looks at you a bit scared. She opens her mouth to say something but you shut her out, "You know, we're in America. For god's sake, we do not even know where we are right now."

At France Avenue,
Taken a few weeks after
 the events on this entry

And Joy adds, "We don't even know Pete's last name. And did you hear PF earlier? PF called Pete a different name. PF called him Ken."

Your jaw drops. 

And the power goes out.

Joy shrieks and you panic. You almost dropped your cup of vodka, as you pull Joy by the arm, towards the door. Like a blind man, you extend your hands into nothingness, as you make your way to the stairs. You can hear Joy calling all the names of gods she knew. Just when you are about to head up the stairs, the light goes back on.

Pete is in front of you, with a plate of pizza, his deep, dark eyes fixed at you and Joy. 

He opens his mouth and asks in a monotone, "Where are you going?" ●

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