It is time to talk about everyone's (well every person I know except for me) favorite topic: food! O the food. Were I still in Europe I am sure I would be able to post ravishing photos of bakeries and tavernas while describing elegant pastries and sumptuous feasts of meat and ale. HOWEVER, I am in a rice country that is not your typical Asian culture (...although I have never lived in another Asian culture so I'm not entirely sure that is a valid comment). Let me explain.
I have rice for breakfast, and rice for lunch, and rice for dinner. Is this a surprise? No. What is a surprise is how much rice is ingrained in the Khmer culture. The word for "rice" is pronounced like the English "bye"...and "to eat" is "hope bye"...as in "eat rice" when translated literally. The bowls? - literally "the receptacle that holds rice". The spoon that serves rice? - "the rice spoon". The food - and I mean ANY other food that you are eating - "food with rice". How do I put this more aptly? ...the word for "happy", literally "happiness" in Khmer is "sup-bye" - or "something - rice". RICE. IS. SYNONYMOUS. WITH. HAPPINESS. "Is this a joke?" you might be thinking, "is Amanda pulling my toes?" No, my air-conditioned friend with a widely varied diet, it is not a joke. I have eaten nothing but rice. I am thoroughly convinced that I will die of rice consumption here in Cambodia. That or on the terrifying roads.
What is even more outrageous is that the Khmer think that rice solves any and all problems. I say I am hungry? They give me rice. I say I am full: first they tell me that I don't eat enough...and then I get rice. I say I am feeling sick, they give me rice. If I were to say I wanted to lose weight (a girl in my group tried to explain this to the Khmer) they would tell me to eat MORE rice. And they don't eat good brown rice; all of it in every single meal is sticky, white, all-sugar, no-good-for-you rice. They feed the babies rice soup. They feed the dogs and cats rice. The idea of rice and its relationship (or lack thereof) to nutrition just boggles my mind. Also I wonder if they couldn't figure out some chocolate ice cream rice deal. Come on Khmer, let's put this rice obsession to some good use.
Something else that is interesting here is that if you go into any restaurant, there are no menus. You can buy the same thing at every place. Are you wondering what it is? Let me give you a hint: it means "happiness" in Khmer. That's right, you got it, it's RICE. You can get rice with pork, rice with chicken, rice with beef, or rice with vegetables. If you're lucky and hit a place with noodles, you can get ramen on your rice too. Those are the breakfast options, the lunch options, and the dinner options. What I wouldn't give for my dad's filet right now. (Dad, are you reading? Google "vacuum sealed" and "overnight to Cambodia")
In addition to eating these wonderful, wholesome, nutritious rice meals that I have already gotten enough of, I also get to help cook them. For many different reasons that I will attempt to explain later, I sometimes help my host mom and sister out in the kitchen preparing the food (not very well, I might add...they've significantly slowed on asking for my help with food). On one of my first nights here, she brought a chicken in that had been de-feathered, and began to chop it up to add to the soup (that part of the meal that is the non-rice...known as "food not rice"). When I say she chopped it up for the soup...I mean she took a cleaver, chopped the chicken up into chicken blocks - bones, organs, joints, ligaments, fat, eyeballs, everything - and dropped it in the pot. Do you know what was left after she was finished putting everything in the soup? THE BEAK. She turned around to see my eyeballs popping out of my head and chuckled a little bit, muttering in Khmer. And they wonder why I don't partake in the soup-like dishes anymore. I don't think they've caught on though, they seem to think I like rice more and more every meal. I really need to learn how to bargain for fruit.
Fruit! One of the greatest discoveries on the first day in Takeo was the discovery of bananas. The bananas here - and all of the fruit, for that matter - are not genetically enhanced American bananas, they are the smallest, most stunted, easily ripened bananas. Each one is about as big as my pointer finger and a little fatter than a good hot dog. The word for "banana" sounds like "jake", which is also ridiculously easy to remember. I eat about three which may equal one banana at home.
And glory day, last night I had an orange!...and it was green!!! I feel as though I don't know my place in this world anymore what with it turning upside down producing oranges that are green. Imagine the time I had trying to explain to my host family - who know no English except colors apparently - that in my country the fruit we were eating was both called an "orange" and was the color orange, but in Cambodia it seems they are green! Of all the discoveries to make, mine leaves my faith in fruits more than a little shattered. What's next - pink blackberries?! Green blueberries?!?! If only I could find berries of any kind!
Bon appetit!
xo-Amanda
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