Getting to O-Som

March 6, 2010

The next morning I made my way to the Old Market in Pursat where indeed, many shared pickup trucks were waiting to be filled with passengers and goods. I was quite the attraction. I found a truck that claimed to go to Promoui. The young men working on loading the truck and getting passengers stared stupidly at me. “Promoui?” I tried to confirm, pointing at the truck. They just looked at me, dumbstruck. “Yes or no?” I said nodding and shaking my head, repeating the question. Eventually I got the answer of “yes.” Next I went through the same process to establish the cost and then again to know what time the truck would leave.

Passengers around me laughed openly, as did some of the boys (or young men, whatever). I felt totally mocked, but what could I do? I dressed respectfully, wearing long sleeves and pants in the heat, I smiled obligingly, but no matter what, I was always a source of great amusement.
For breakfast I had a bowl of noodles in green broth/sauce from a street vendor which would make me slightly “ill” for the next week. Ahh, the price you pay for good/cheap food. ;) I took refuge from the circus by the trucks at this food stall. The older woman serving the noodles was kind and the old man I sat next to was extremely proud to have his photo taken by me.

I had thought the boat was uncomfortable, but the 4 hours I spent on the back of the pickup truck was definitely worse. Over the bumpy road I sat on a lumpy package of I don’t know what. Slowly I was coated in layer after layer of red dust. When I licked my lips I tasted the earth and felt the grit between my teeth. There was no shelter from the sun besides my hat and scarf. But it was definitely a “local” experience, since this mode of transportation is the main way for people to get to and from the mountains.

In my boredom a semi-interesting dialogue began in my head: I noticed that most of my fellow passengers hung their legs over the side of the truck; this was the most efficient way to get the most people on the truck. I had got stuck with a seat in the middle of the pile of goods. Everyone was wearing their flip-flops and I thought that if I did the same certainly I would lose a flip-flop at some point with all the bumps and wind. How stressful to have to make sure they don’t fall off your feet! I thought it was odd that they didn’t choose to wear different shoes when they knew they would be on the back of a truck for so long that day. I’m stupid to assume that they have other pairs of shoes. Would they really need more than a pair of flip-flops anyway? My flip-flops are almost all that I have worn for the past 2 months, and I only have one other pair of shoes in case of hiking. Wait a moment, that wasn’t right… Oh yeah, I have a closet full of shoes at home. Why do I have so many shoes? When could I possibly wear all those shoes? Oh my god, and all the clothes! I have an entire drawer dedicated to scarves.

As I reflected on my closet and life back home I realized how far removed from that lifestyle I am now. I don’t think about dressing up or down, I just put something relatively clean on each day and head out. And I don’t miss it at all. I never do when I travel. At home I love my clothes and guiltily I do enjoy shopping, but I really don’t need it. When I’m camping or traveling I am just as content to be simple. What amazed me was how quickly I forgot that I am in possession of a huge amount of Stuff. Living out of a backpack for 2 months, and knowing that it will continue to be my home for the next 2+ months, I don’t associate myself as materialistic. While this feels nice, it’s also important that I remind myself of my ridiculous wealth of Stuff in the USA from time to time so that I can draw proper comparisons to the way people live around me. (All that said, Asia is extremely materialistic and consumerist so in general I haven’t felt the same contrast to the USA as I have in other parts of the world.)

The surroundings of the drive reminded me of the forest in Mondulkiri. Perhaps this area was also once a natural woodland and grasslands. There area has mostly been cleared for agriculture or by logging and everything has recently been burned. We drive through smoke and ash floats down on us like snow.

When we reach Promoui I am quickly offered a ride by motorcycle to O-Som. This is a relief because I was afraid since it was in the afternoon no one would want to go. I agree on a price of $7 and we head south. The rode is horrible. For a car it would be quite manageable, but as a passenger on the back of a bike my back was crying for mercy. After the last 2 days this was the last thing my back needed. My driver didn’t seem to care about slowing down for some of the potholes in the road, though I have a suspicion his vision wasn’t 20/20 and he couldn’t make some of them out in time to slow down. So with each bump and hole I held on and hoped my spine wouldn’t snap.

The mountains in the distance beckoned with the hope of cooler air. As we climbed the air did cool and the scenery changed. The woods quickly changed to jungle and the green grew darker. I was excited to be somewhere so beautiful and so remote, especially since my route was working out! 1.5hours later we arrived in O-Som, faster than I had hoped. My driver dropped me in front of, surprise, a guesthouse. O-Som does have a guesthouse. Two in fact.