A Lesson in Khmer Etiquette

It all started with a small unidentified tuber. The woman sitting next to me on the bus offered the finger-like root to me a few minutes into the six hour journey. I had been staring out the window engrossed in the everyday happenings of the countryside and was not expecting the gift. Then she tied a small plastic bag to the seat in front of me. I smiled and thanked her in Khmer. I peeled away the soft brown skin, deposited it into the bag, and started eating.

Fascinated by the houses on stilts, the bare chested men sporting sarongs and the neon green of the rice fields, I went back to gazing through the window. But only momentarily. The three women in my row had decided to share the contents of their bottomless picnic basket. There were several rounds of food: more tubers (cassava), fruit (familiar: banana, mandarin and exotic: rambutan, sapodilla) and handfuls of nuts. I cleaned my sticky hands with a damp napkin and wondered how I was lucky enough to be assigned the seat next to these generous women. I tried to express my appreciation but our limited common vocabulary could only lead to lots of nodding and smiling.

I accepted a new plastic bag piled high with rice (a requirement of every Cambodian meal) and fish. Happily surprised that it was still warm, I dug in. I paused when I heard a clucking sound from my neighbor. She produced a spoon from depths of her purse and handed it to me with a look that said, “silly barang!” Apparently I was supposed to eat directly out of the bag rather than using my hands. Whoops.

Daylight was disappearing when we arrived at a rutted dirt parking lot in Phnom Penh. The women stood protectively close to me while the conductor crawled into the baggage area under the bus to extract overflowing cardboard boxes, re-purposed cement sacks, a bicycle and my travel worn backpack. I nodded and smiled to myself, unable to adequately express the happiness I felt with my decision to spend the next 10 months in Cambodia.