Backstage Cambodia

One of the earliest lessons I learnt in life was that I shouldn’t trust strangers. With this in mind, jumping on the back of a complete strangers rickety motorbike in a foreign country is generally unadvisable. Yet this was exactly what I found myself doing, holding on for dear life to a pleasant young man called Cam, who had promised introduce me to his Cambodia; the real Cambodia. The wind in my ears reminded me not only of a cliché, but also of the fact that I wasn’t wearing a helmet. I thought how completely bizarre this was- Cam worked at that nights chosen restaurant, and here I was off to meet his extended family at his sisters wedding. I was hesitant at his invitation, distrust of strangers rising. Yet it struck me that visiting a foreign country was like going to watch a show. You chose what you wanted to see, when you wanted to see it, and then you went home. Cheap food and drinks on the beach were my theatre – Cam had simply invited me backstage.
A jubilant mix of Khmer and English signalled we'd arrived. My apprehension dissolved as his family spilled out of a tiny house with a surprisingly high carrying capacity of jolly Cambodians. I was welcomed into their modest lives like an old friend, ushered inside amongst a midst of incomprehensible excitable chatter. Cam’s sister was getting their hair done, her eyes lighting up as Cam explained he had bought a friend. Notable warmth spread through me at the ease in which she welcomed a stranger into an intimate moment of her life.
I was steered into the kitchen to sit around a giant pot of soup. My senses were infiltrated with happiness, the buzz of laughter filling my ears, and delicious aromas attacking my nostrils. It wasn’t until my last mouthful that I remembered I didn’t even like soup, happily forgotten as we had shared stories. Pausing, I revelled in the fact that a leap of faith for me had been a friendly normality for Cam. My faith in humanity positively refreshed, I may well be leaping more often.