I Am White, Hear Me Rawr!

There are no shopping malls in Cambodia. Well there is Sorya, but it's not what you think.

It's all markets.

Russian Market, Central Market, Orrusey Market. And then of course the smaller local markets.

Phsar Monnang is the market just down the street from the mission where we buy all our fruits and vegetables.

Each of the larger markets offers different things as far as interaction with people.

Russian is very touristy and very big. Most of the sellers speak enough English to deal with the tourists. And as you walk by each stall you hear, miss you want?! You need?! I have cheap price for you! It's a confusing set up, closely packed, and so ridiculously hot.

Central is also very touristy. Though the set up is not nearly as confusing as Russian. There is a large central area and then the market is divided into arms that are themed around the same sort of items, clothes, electronics, etc. The sellers are often a little more disinterested than at Russian, sometimes calling out, sometimes not.

Orrusey Market is not touristy at all. At three stories tall, you won't find postcards, clever t-shirts or a lot of white people. The wet market is a little overwhelming, and no one speaks too much English.

I get stared at a lot, as do all the white people around here. Doesn't matter if I'm just walking down the street, heads turn. Comments are made sometimes in English, sometimes in Khmer. It's something you get used to.

The other week I was walking to the mission with Thida, one of the girls in my class. And like usual every person we passed watched me, some said hello, some walked with us for a few steps. When we got to the mission she asked, Teacher, why?! Why they talk and look?

I pointed at my skin.

A few weeks ago I was leaving Central and a moto driver said to himself and those around him, ohh sa-aht barrang, meaning beautiful foreigner and then he said to me, moto?!

Today, I was wandering through Orrusey. I needed a shirt and some toothpaste. As I walked down the aisles, I could feel eyes on me from every direction. At Orrusey there is not many with my skin color and so it's impossible to blend in. Not many sellers call out, but they all stare.

I stopped at a stall to look at some shirts. The sellar wasn't paying attention and someone called out to her. Barang! Foreigner! And as I looked at shirts, the seller looked at me, a neighbor seller was standing there watching me as well and said, sa-aht s'baik bpoa. Meaning, beautiful skin color.

I looked down at my arm, laughed and said, Ah-tay! Kynom joe-jet bpoa t'naot! No! I like brown!

In their surprise they stopped talking and just watched me.

On the next floor I passed some pants that grabbed my attention. A man standing there moves aside and points to them. I nod and say, la-ah na bpoa. Very nice color. He replies in Khmer, you too, you want? First pointing at me and then pointing at the pants.

The only thing I could do was laugh.

Everywhere we go, sreys-ah! Beautiful girl!

In Cambodia I turn heads. In Cambodia I don't wash my hair or wear matching colors very often. But people still stare, point, and talk.

Who would've guessed.