is patience. That is not to say I've become some sort of guru on the subject, but I've picked up on this aspect of Cambodian culture as best as I have been able to, and it's something I hope to bring back with me, a kind of ultimate souvenir.
If you think you are a patient person, ask yourself these questions:
Am I patient when I drive? I have literally seen things that would make most Westerners lose their minds. I have seen cars stop in the middle of a street and park during rush hour, blocking traffic behind them and sending a ripple of blocked traffic around cross streets for hundreds of meters in every direction. What do Cambodians do? Honk? Yell? Go tell the guy off? Nope. They wait. They wait knowing that yesterday or tomorrow they might decide to stop in the middle of a busy street and park.
Am I patient when I get into a fender bender? I have been in a tuk-tuk that has been bumped from behind by an SUV; I have bumped my own bike into a moto at a stop light. What happened? Nothing. The tuk-tuk driver looked back through his rear view mirror but didn't even get out of his seat; the moto I ran into didn't even look back.
Am I patient at restaurants? People here will wait interminably--and then they will wait some more. The idea of "imperative" or "must be taken care of immediately" is not in the cultural character. They will wait for service, for food, for a bill, whatever. There is none of the American sense of urgency. They will also wait for guests to arrive. When I volunteered as an English teacher, my students threw me a party on the last day class. They brought food and drink. We were all set to sit down and eat, but two students were late to class (20-30 minutes late). What did the rest of the class do? Go ahead and eat? Gripe? Nope. They waited--and the idea that we would not wait for their peers didn't even cross their minds.
Am I patient when I wait for public transportation? I have seen people wait for a bus or boat for over super long periods of time, and when said bus or boat arrives and then waits for more passengers before departing, you know what the people do? They wait. The same is true when they are waiting in any line, for anything. There is no complaining, no moaning, no cursing--just patient waiting.
When I came here, I was the model of American impatience: I need this now; I need you to take care of that now; everything was now, now, now. I have made strides thanks to my Cambodian teachers. I try to apply their lesson every time I get on my bike and head into traffic or wait at a traffic light or wait for service or even wait for my son to finish his damn breakfast.
I try to remember that there is time. There is time to wait, time to be patient, time to not get upset. The art of waiting (or patience) was one of the qualities Sidhartha claimed to possess when he wooed Kamala. She scoffed at him--as many of us would have. But who was right?
I leave you with this, and with this prepare to take my leave of Phnom Penh, Where can you bring patience to the fore? When are you most impatient? Can you find the self-equanimity to foster patience at these times, the times you need it most?
If you think you are a patient person, ask yourself these questions:
Am I patient when I drive? I have literally seen things that would make most Westerners lose their minds. I have seen cars stop in the middle of a street and park during rush hour, blocking traffic behind them and sending a ripple of blocked traffic around cross streets for hundreds of meters in every direction. What do Cambodians do? Honk? Yell? Go tell the guy off? Nope. They wait. They wait knowing that yesterday or tomorrow they might decide to stop in the middle of a busy street and park.
Am I patient when I get into a fender bender? I have been in a tuk-tuk that has been bumped from behind by an SUV; I have bumped my own bike into a moto at a stop light. What happened? Nothing. The tuk-tuk driver looked back through his rear view mirror but didn't even get out of his seat; the moto I ran into didn't even look back.
Am I patient at restaurants? People here will wait interminably--and then they will wait some more. The idea of "imperative" or "must be taken care of immediately" is not in the cultural character. They will wait for service, for food, for a bill, whatever. There is none of the American sense of urgency. They will also wait for guests to arrive. When I volunteered as an English teacher, my students threw me a party on the last day class. They brought food and drink. We were all set to sit down and eat, but two students were late to class (20-30 minutes late). What did the rest of the class do? Go ahead and eat? Gripe? Nope. They waited--and the idea that we would not wait for their peers didn't even cross their minds.
Am I patient when I wait for public transportation? I have seen people wait for a bus or boat for over super long periods of time, and when said bus or boat arrives and then waits for more passengers before departing, you know what the people do? They wait. The same is true when they are waiting in any line, for anything. There is no complaining, no moaning, no cursing--just patient waiting.
When I came here, I was the model of American impatience: I need this now; I need you to take care of that now; everything was now, now, now. I have made strides thanks to my Cambodian teachers. I try to apply their lesson every time I get on my bike and head into traffic or wait at a traffic light or wait for service or even wait for my son to finish his damn breakfast.
I try to remember that there is time. There is time to wait, time to be patient, time to not get upset. The art of waiting (or patience) was one of the qualities Sidhartha claimed to possess when he wooed Kamala. She scoffed at him--as many of us would have. But who was right?
I leave you with this, and with this prepare to take my leave of Phnom Penh, Where can you bring patience to the fore? When are you most impatient? Can you find the self-equanimity to foster patience at these times, the times you need it most?
