A Country of Hustlers and Jokers

Around the ancient ruins of Angkor, the children are the most motivated vendors. Moreso than perhaps any place I've ever visited, the kids know how to work the charm. Their most effective weapon is their stylized use of English. The letter "r" changes to "ah", "v" changes to "b". Syntax gets modified so the kids sound a little like Yoda, from the Star Wars movies. Statements come out in a sing-song, rise and fall of the voice - the end always trailing away on an elongated, plaintive drawl.

• "Buy one moah my beeah (beer)..."
• "Gib me one moah orange again..." (From a girl who saw oranges in a small bag we carried. We had given her no oranges in the first place.)
• "Buy my cold drinks, okayyy...?"
• "Buy my post card nowww..."
• "Don't say no, say yes..." (after I answered in the negative.)
• "No? Buy twooo..." (after I answered that I didn't want one.)
• "Hello Sah (sir). I sell you cheap, cheap big plan. Two Coke for one dollahhh..." (from a boy running up to us, menus in hand.)
• One common tactic involved the kids trotting up the final twenty or so steps to us saying "hello" breathlessly. Initially, we asked them what was wrong. They'd answer something like, "I ran so far to catch you." It took us a couple times to realize this was a sympathy ploy for us to recognize their hard work.

I mentioned in the prior post that Cambodians seem to love to have a laugh, especially if it's at the expense of a 'falang'. One morning I saw this crude looking saw laying on some blocks. I thought it looked interesting so I clambered over for a photo. A small group of women workers eating close by took an interest and started talking. At first they watched me maneuver around the rubble trying to get a good angle. Two came over to look at my camera screen to see why the heck I might be trying to take a picture of a weed chopper. One woman sitting facing the group started a monologue that elicited periodic ripples of laughter and affirmations from the others. I could tell she was talking about me because she and the others would glance in my direction just before or after the laughs.

I got my shot and walked past. Her monologue continued without a break. Both she and the others tried to stifle increasing laughter. Since I was the obvious object of the joke, I stopped to watch. The monologue lady was laughing so hard she was rubbing her belly, gasping and wiping her eyes yet still she talked on. This had been building for something like two minutes. Just behind her, facing myself and the ladies, sat a small group of men groundskeepers. Throughout, the guys never fully shared in the laughs. After I stopped to watch, they only smiled nervously shooting me furtive glances I can only assume were intended to confirm, without a doubt, that I didn't understand what she was saying.

What entertainment I could have provided by merely taking a photo, I have no idea. I could still hear the laughs and the occasional "falang" as I rounded the corner of a ruin.