D'Horror D'Horror
"The men came off of the boat and went about among the Lotus-eaters, who did them no hurt, but gave them to eat of the lotus, which was so delicious that those who ate of it left off caring about home, and did not even want to go back to tell their tales. They were all for remaining on the island and munching lotus with the Lotus-eaters without thinking of ever seeing home again. . .though they were in anguish when I forced them back to the boat." (Homer, The Odyssey, Book IX)
First by motor boat we spent the morning in a flourish of yellow light and a shadowy active ocean of sad sea green triple layered treetops making our way to the fishing village, Kompong Phluk. Then by paddling and poling dugout canoes, we toured the flooded forest.
In the film Apocalypse Now, as a US Navy Swift boat travels the Mekong from Vietnam to Cambodia, a sailor/former saucier from New Orleans encourages his skipper to stop the boat in order to find some mangoes to spruce up the crew's dinner. All a'sudden, a tiger leaps out of the jungle and terrifies the sailor who runs back to the boat yelling out the iconoclastic turn of phrase "never get off the boat, never get off the boat!".
This phrase has entered popular culture, on one level, as an allegorical warning to those who intrude upon other cultures intent on staying and perhaps imposing their own culture on the aboriginals.
Stay on the boat, visit, throw some money around, snap a few photos, then go home. Kurtz, of Conrad's book, Heart of Darkness(set in Africa) and of Coppola's film (set in Vietnam and Cambodia)got off the boat and refused to go home.
We got off the boat. We snapped a few pictures. We tossed around a few dollars. We pampered ourselves with a packed lunch. Then, sadly, we went home.
After touring the flooded forest and Tonle Sap (Lake), we left the boat, climbed a dozen or more creaking stairs leading to a house on stilts with bamboo-thatched walls and a corrugated tin roof. The grown ups of the house had gone fishing. Two barefoot teenage girls, wrapped in checkered khmer blouses and silk sarongs, both wearing ankle bracelets and an assortment of toe rings, occupied themselves baby-sitting and preparing a family dinner to be cooked on a wood-burning stove. Now and again, they came out of the kitchen to check on the sleeping infant, then retreated back to the kitchen, giggling.
A fat orange tabby cat with big balls came from another room to check out the sweaty barang. After making the rounds for some ceremonious head pats, he returned to his private quarters.
Mina, Kevin and I lulled about like lotus eaters for a couple of hours before we ate a lunch of lotus salad and skinless roasted chicken breasts in mango sauce, packed and prepared by the French chef, Olivier, who owned our three-star air conned guesthouse, the Eurasiane, where Mina and I, coincidentally, stayed in the Lotus room.
You know, Fuck Homer, Conrad and Coppola. Home is over rated.
Flush toilets, Medicare and early bird prime rib specials at the Steak and Ale are also over rated. When I retire--and may that day come sooner than later, I really, really do want to get off the boat then sink the boat and spend the rest of my years filling my belly with lotus leaves. If I have to throw around more than a few dollars to do it, well, you do what you got to do.
First by motor boat we spent the morning in a flourish of yellow light and a shadowy active ocean of sad sea green triple layered treetops making our way to the fishing village, Kompong Phluk. Then by paddling and poling dugout canoes, we toured the flooded forest.
In the film Apocalypse Now, as a US Navy Swift boat travels the Mekong from Vietnam to Cambodia, a sailor/former saucier from New Orleans encourages his skipper to stop the boat in order to find some mangoes to spruce up the crew's dinner. All a'sudden, a tiger leaps out of the jungle and terrifies the sailor who runs back to the boat yelling out the iconoclastic turn of phrase "never get off the boat, never get off the boat!".
This phrase has entered popular culture, on one level, as an allegorical warning to those who intrude upon other cultures intent on staying and perhaps imposing their own culture on the aboriginals.
Stay on the boat, visit, throw some money around, snap a few photos, then go home. Kurtz, of Conrad's book, Heart of Darkness(set in Africa) and of Coppola's film (set in Vietnam and Cambodia)got off the boat and refused to go home.
We got off the boat. We snapped a few pictures. We tossed around a few dollars. We pampered ourselves with a packed lunch. Then, sadly, we went home.
After touring the flooded forest and Tonle Sap (Lake), we left the boat, climbed a dozen or more creaking stairs leading to a house on stilts with bamboo-thatched walls and a corrugated tin roof. The grown ups of the house had gone fishing. Two barefoot teenage girls, wrapped in checkered khmer blouses and silk sarongs, both wearing ankle bracelets and an assortment of toe rings, occupied themselves baby-sitting and preparing a family dinner to be cooked on a wood-burning stove. Now and again, they came out of the kitchen to check on the sleeping infant, then retreated back to the kitchen, giggling.
A fat orange tabby cat with big balls came from another room to check out the sweaty barang. After making the rounds for some ceremonious head pats, he returned to his private quarters.
Mina, Kevin and I lulled about like lotus eaters for a couple of hours before we ate a lunch of lotus salad and skinless roasted chicken breasts in mango sauce, packed and prepared by the French chef, Olivier, who owned our three-star air conned guesthouse, the Eurasiane, where Mina and I, coincidentally, stayed in the Lotus room.
You know, Fuck Homer, Conrad and Coppola. Home is over rated.
Flush toilets, Medicare and early bird prime rib specials at the Steak and Ale are also over rated. When I retire--and may that day come sooner than later, I really, really do want to get off the boat then sink the boat and spend the rest of my years filling my belly with lotus leaves. If I have to throw around more than a few dollars to do it, well, you do what you got to do.
Labels: flooded forest, Kompong Phluk, lotus salad, Siem Reap, the alliance restaurant, the Eurasian Guest House
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5 Comments:
Oh you two look so hip in your shades!
I envy you your vacation. If you're ever up for a different kind of paradise, a semitropical one, come on over to Lamma sometime.
You mean my "two hun'naht baht" Ray Bans? Why on earth would someone who actually watched seasons turn from Siem Reap envy some barangi tourist who passed through there for a couple of weeks? I'd love to visit Lamma. I can add to my collections of original Briel cyanotypes.
The idea - just the IDEA - of getting off the boat is so intoxicating to me. In the absence of a vessel, that's sometimes enough.
I guess that's what makes a horse race, hm? Some people get huge satisfaction from touring their home and seeing fluffy bathroom rugs that match the toiletries that match the etc.
I'm happy to admire their mixy-matchiness, but it does nothing for me.
Blah blah blah. Point is, it's a lucky, lucky twist of fate to own a preference for off-boat-getting, don't you think? You just can't lecture people into seeing its advantages. I managed to escape having the missionary zeal factor, but I've watched others try and, curiously, in the middle of their lecture, the fluffy bathmats start looking good.
"off-boat-getting"
I like that a lot.
If I ever do return to the village and invest in a retirement condo on stilts, believe you me, I won't be on a mission other than to lie in hammock, although, now that you mention it, I did notice a soft spot in the market for fluffy bathmats. I would accept catfish and carp on a trade.
Hey, nice to see the added text.
I used to ride past "L'Eurasienne" on the way from my concrete house - you stopped by, David, didn't you? - to the radio station every morning.
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