- Wandering Soup
Black in Cambodia | Wandering Soup
I was debating on how to start out this blog and if it was necessary but then I looked around and realized I didn't see anyone that looked like me, so yes it's necessary, at least to me and possibly to some of my readers.
We are here, the wife, the kid and I. A little shy of a month now, seems much longer but that's life when you ageing. It's been interesting dealing with perception vs reality. The real life versus photo's and video's taken from a perspective that doesn't fit me and mine or my skin color. What's been more of an eye opener is everyone's eyes going big when we announce that we will be here for a year. Shocked is easily the word I can use to describe their facial expressions followed by "A YEAR?" and an almost standard "Do you work here?" or something along those lines.
Maybe I misread all the blogs and articles that touted all the folks moving here for more than they could have at home, better than in some shape or fashion. I have to wonder if other paler folks get the same shocked look. Naw, I'm not wondering I know they aren't. Mainly because I see them everywhere, walking, shopping, eating...living as if this is their normal. The same normal that we want to have one day. One day.
Cambodia or this little part we've seen so far is beautifully ugly and every time we step outside to enjoy it we are accosted by Tuk Tuk drivers. I've had to be{come} an asshole just to have peace while walking down the street. Anyone who looks like a tourist gets this treatment, so we aren't special but this skin doesn't help when you can be spotted a block away. I get it, its their job.
Just like it's the job of the person who follows me down most of the aisles in the grocery store or mini markets. The wife says they follow everyone, I'm not everyone and I thought that would stop outside of the U.S. It didn't.
Lies tell long tales.
Speaking of tales or stories I thought that by now we would have connected with other expats/immigrants formed a "family" of sorts. Like minded folks seeking something...different. Sharing stories of past lives and hopes for the future. We haven't. And I don't know if America still has a hold on me or if I'm enjoying the freedom of not giving a fuck but either way I/we don't speak and they don't speak to us when we see each other. Mind you most folks we've seen could have been anything but American. I don't care. I don't have to be nice. I don't have to depend on them or pretend. And I'm not saying that to say anything not politically correct but freedom is freeing.
Don't get me wrong we will be going into the community, attending functions. Organically.
In a nutshell being Black in Cambodia is being Black in America; I'm followed in stores and I'm searching for family. Shit.
Kat