Sunday, August 29, 2010
Death in the morning
If you are a regular reader of these blogs you will know that one of the things that puts me off living in Cambodia is the loud noise associated with weddings and funerals. Being here at this time of year is a conscious choice. It's the rainy season. Most weddings are held in the outdoors and people don't often get married in the rainy season. Unfortunately most people don't have the luxury of choosing the time of their death.
When I left for Phnom Penh last week I noticed the sounds of a funeral starting up and was pleased to be missing it. After I returned to Kompong Chhnang I noticed music was being played from loudspeakers across the road—another funeral—a few nights ago. It didn't go too late into the evening so I was quite pleased. This warning also meant I could be prepared for the morning. I had my iPod and headphones ready. I bought them specifically for this purpose. When the music started up again at 4 am I was ready. The music I was playing did not drown out the external noise. I didn't want to burst my eardrums so I put up with a little of their noise seeping in. But at least I had something else to concentrate on. It was bearable but only just. When the mournful howling songs started at 4.30 it was a bit much but I survived.
Later I was told the story of the death. My informant speaks only passable English so maybe I didn't get the details correct but here is the gist of the story.
The man concerned was a father of five. I don't know how old he was. He drove a remorque moto, a Cambodian form of public transport with a motorcycle pulling a box trailer. His route took him to another town in the direction of Phnom Penh.
Coming in the opposite direction in the early hours of the morning was a truck returning from delivering a load of contraband timber taken from a national park to Phnom Penh. Perhaps the driver had been driving through the night so as not to be seen with his illicit load and in the early hours of the morning he fell asleep at the wheel and veered across the road right into the remorque moto which was pulled over on the side of the road.
The moto driver and his son were on board and were both injured, the father seriously. An ambulance was called. And here my informant veered off into a side story of how a spotter's fee is paid to the person who calls an ambulance. Apparently the ambulance passenger is charged a large sum of money for the journey. But the father died soon after he arrived at the hospital in Phnom Penh. The family was expected to pay another fee to bring the body back to Kompong Chhnang otherwise the hospital would sell the body for use in scientific experiments to recoup the costs.
Apparently the family paid up so they did have a body to cremate. But it all sounded rather tragic and helped me to understand the mournful singing.
When I left for Phnom Penh last week I noticed the sounds of a funeral starting up and was pleased to be missing it. After I returned to Kompong Chhnang I noticed music was being played from loudspeakers across the road—another funeral—a few nights ago. It didn't go too late into the evening so I was quite pleased. This warning also meant I could be prepared for the morning. I had my iPod and headphones ready. I bought them specifically for this purpose. When the music started up again at 4 am I was ready. The music I was playing did not drown out the external noise. I didn't want to burst my eardrums so I put up with a little of their noise seeping in. But at least I had something else to concentrate on. It was bearable but only just. When the mournful howling songs started at 4.30 it was a bit much but I survived.
Later I was told the story of the death. My informant speaks only passable English so maybe I didn't get the details correct but here is the gist of the story.
The man concerned was a father of five. I don't know how old he was. He drove a remorque moto, a Cambodian form of public transport with a motorcycle pulling a box trailer. His route took him to another town in the direction of Phnom Penh.
Coming in the opposite direction in the early hours of the morning was a truck returning from delivering a load of contraband timber taken from a national park to Phnom Penh. Perhaps the driver had been driving through the night so as not to be seen with his illicit load and in the early hours of the morning he fell asleep at the wheel and veered across the road right into the remorque moto which was pulled over on the side of the road.
The moto driver and his son were on board and were both injured, the father seriously. An ambulance was called. And here my informant veered off into a side story of how a spotter's fee is paid to the person who calls an ambulance. Apparently the ambulance passenger is charged a large sum of money for the journey. But the father died soon after he arrived at the hospital in Phnom Penh. The family was expected to pay another fee to bring the body back to Kompong Chhnang otherwise the hospital would sell the body for use in scientific experiments to recoup the costs.
Apparently the family paid up so they did have a body to cremate. But it all sounded rather tragic and helped me to understand the mournful singing.
Labels: Asia, Cambodia, death, Kompong Chhnang, noise
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
From cold to cough
I had very little idea of what to expect in Derhadun. I went to escape the cold of Mussoorie and with an open mind as to how long I'd stay.
My taxi driver from Mussoorie recommended Hotel White House, saying it was in a street with restrictions on traffic and therefore quieter. The building looks to be about 50 years old and apart from painting has had very little maintenance in that time. My room was quite large with an attached bathroom. It opens to a large covered verandah at the front and an uncovered area at the back.
When I was inspecting the room the hot water shower was pointed out. Later when I went to take a shower no hot water would come out of it. It would come out of the lower tap but not the shower. I took a bath Asian style but at least with warm water. Later, I mentioned this to the manager who shrugged his shoulders and said, 'That's because the geyser (hot water system) is lower than the shower head.' Yeah, I'd figured that. But why? Later again, I was told that Indian people dislike the problem of getting the temperature adjusted correctly. They prefer to run the water into a bucket and wash from that. So that's how I did it too.
On my first afternoon in Derhadun I went for a walk to check out the town. Visually I found it stimulating. It is a busy town and busy in India means noise and air pollution. Away from the cold air of Mussoorie my nose had stopped running but with all the pollution I'd developed a cough.
I've met some pleasant people in this town, found a good place to eat and the hotel is indeed quiet at night. But with all this pollution I've decided to start making enquiries about getting to Rishikesh.
My taxi driver from Mussoorie recommended Hotel White House, saying it was in a street with restrictions on traffic and therefore quieter. The building looks to be about 50 years old and apart from painting has had very little maintenance in that time. My room was quite large with an attached bathroom. It opens to a large covered verandah at the front and an uncovered area at the back.
When I was inspecting the room the hot water shower was pointed out. Later when I went to take a shower no hot water would come out of it. It would come out of the lower tap but not the shower. I took a bath Asian style but at least with warm water. Later, I mentioned this to the manager who shrugged his shoulders and said, 'That's because the geyser (hot water system) is lower than the shower head.' Yeah, I'd figured that. But why? Later again, I was told that Indian people dislike the problem of getting the temperature adjusted correctly. They prefer to run the water into a bucket and wash from that. So that's how I did it too.
On my first afternoon in Derhadun I went for a walk to check out the town. Visually I found it stimulating. It is a busy town and busy in India means noise and air pollution. Away from the cold air of Mussoorie my nose had stopped running but with all the pollution I'd developed a cough.
I've met some pleasant people in this town, found a good place to eat and the hotel is indeed quiet at night. But with all this pollution I've decided to start making enquiries about getting to Rishikesh.
Labels: Asia, India, noise, travel
Friday, December 12, 2008
The hills are alive...
Back when I was in Cambodia, I probably commented in this blog that drivers on Cambodian highways drive with a foot on the accelerator and a hand on the horn. Other driving tools, such as the brake, are of less importance.
Here in India the horn is king and for some drivers and motorcycle riders it is used almost constantly. It's also not uncommon for motorcycles to have musical air horns fitted. Consider the amount of traffic on Indian roads—huge; consider the common attitude of Indian drivers—I'm coming through no matter what; and you learn to expect the constant music of beeping horns in India whenever you are anywhere close to a road.
In Mussoorie, staying at Ivy Bank there was very little traffic but because of the narrow winding roads drivers are still obliged to sound their horns to warn oncoming vehicles of their presence.
For those who don't enjoy this free music, it does fortunately reduce to almost nothing, at least in Mussoorie at night
Here in India the horn is king and for some drivers and motorcycle riders it is used almost constantly. It's also not uncommon for motorcycles to have musical air horns fitted. Consider the amount of traffic on Indian roads—huge; consider the common attitude of Indian drivers—I'm coming through no matter what; and you learn to expect the constant music of beeping horns in India whenever you are anywhere close to a road.
In Mussoorie, staying at Ivy Bank there was very little traffic but because of the narrow winding roads drivers are still obliged to sound their horns to warn oncoming vehicles of their presence.
For those who don't enjoy this free music, it does fortunately reduce to almost nothing, at least in Mussoorie at night
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Why I left Cambodia
There are many things I like about Cambodia. I find the people generally to be a delight and in many ways the lifestyle is pleasant for me. There is good and bad everywhere. I accept that nothing is perfect. If one can find a balance then one can put up with the unpleasant aspects of life. If the negative side of life becomes too much, it is necessary to come to terms with it or move on. I don't believe in staying in a situation in which I am unhappy.
I had a rough plan to stay for three months and to reassess my situation. During those three months it never occurred to me that I would not stay. I was generally quite happy with my life in Kompong Chhnang. I had good friends, a simple but pleasant lifestyle, I was learning the language and gaining the ability to communicate with a wider group of people. But after the third month passed my attitude changed.
I have written here before about my aversion to the extreme noise that accompanies any celebration such as wedding, funeral or festival in Cambodia. This noise includes music, speeches and chanting monks broadcast from huge loudspeakers in the open. During those first three months this was fairly occasional and not too close to my home to be a problem.
About this time, I was woken one morning at 4 am by extremely loud noises. They were coming from the house right behind me. Apparently a man from this house had died. As he was relatively wealthy it was considered appropriate to hold a big funeral. It lasted on and off for seven days.
As a storyteller I learned many years ago of the power of a microphone. The first time I was given one I discovered that it saved my voice. I could whisper and still be heard. Most of those giving speeches at this funeral didn't seem to have learned this. I realized this when, in contrast, one man actually knew how to use a microphone. He spoke calmly and quietly and even though I could not understand him and it was broadcast at a loud volume it was not unpleasant. The speakers who preceded and followed him had no idea of this. It seemed that they felt the need to shout into the microphone. I found it most unpleasant.
I kept telling myself that it would end and eventually it did. But after that every time I was woken by yet another celebration at 4 am I became quite annoyed. This was the dry season. People may not choose when they die but they choose to hold weddings and other festivities at this time of the year. It was a regular occurrence.
If I got through the night without being woken I would wake up happy and I would have a pleasant day. If I went two days like this I would be content again and want to stay there as long as I could. But if I was woken the next day I would start thinking again that it was time to leave.
I know that this is my issue. I am not blaming the Cambodian people. This is what Cambodia is like. Cambodians don't find it offensive. If I want to live there, I have to learn to cope with it.
I like to think that I am in control of my own happiness, that happiness is a matter of telling myself to be happy, to put a positive view on things. But I couldn't do it. Whenever the day started with the loud music I would have a bad day. Eventually I decided that I was in control but I had to take control by moving on and that's what I've done.
I came to Bangkok about two weeks ago without knowing what I was going to do. I could be happy to live in Thailand but unlike Cambodia, there are lots of hoops to jump through to get a long-term visa. I started to look more closely at the options. I am entitled to apply for a retirement visa and if I stay here with one I would want to study Thai language just as I studied Khmer in Cambodia. I have discovered that if I enrol for a full-year Thai-language course I can apply for an education visa which is simpler. I am now working through that process. I'll let you know what develops.
I had a rough plan to stay for three months and to reassess my situation. During those three months it never occurred to me that I would not stay. I was generally quite happy with my life in Kompong Chhnang. I had good friends, a simple but pleasant lifestyle, I was learning the language and gaining the ability to communicate with a wider group of people. But after the third month passed my attitude changed.
I have written here before about my aversion to the extreme noise that accompanies any celebration such as wedding, funeral or festival in Cambodia. This noise includes music, speeches and chanting monks broadcast from huge loudspeakers in the open. During those first three months this was fairly occasional and not too close to my home to be a problem.
About this time, I was woken one morning at 4 am by extremely loud noises. They were coming from the house right behind me. Apparently a man from this house had died. As he was relatively wealthy it was considered appropriate to hold a big funeral. It lasted on and off for seven days.
As a storyteller I learned many years ago of the power of a microphone. The first time I was given one I discovered that it saved my voice. I could whisper and still be heard. Most of those giving speeches at this funeral didn't seem to have learned this. I realized this when, in contrast, one man actually knew how to use a microphone. He spoke calmly and quietly and even though I could not understand him and it was broadcast at a loud volume it was not unpleasant. The speakers who preceded and followed him had no idea of this. It seemed that they felt the need to shout into the microphone. I found it most unpleasant.
I kept telling myself that it would end and eventually it did. But after that every time I was woken by yet another celebration at 4 am I became quite annoyed. This was the dry season. People may not choose when they die but they choose to hold weddings and other festivities at this time of the year. It was a regular occurrence.
If I got through the night without being woken I would wake up happy and I would have a pleasant day. If I went two days like this I would be content again and want to stay there as long as I could. But if I was woken the next day I would start thinking again that it was time to leave.
I know that this is my issue. I am not blaming the Cambodian people. This is what Cambodia is like. Cambodians don't find it offensive. If I want to live there, I have to learn to cope with it.
I like to think that I am in control of my own happiness, that happiness is a matter of telling myself to be happy, to put a positive view on things. But I couldn't do it. Whenever the day started with the loud music I would have a bad day. Eventually I decided that I was in control but I had to take control by moving on and that's what I've done.
I came to Bangkok about two weeks ago without knowing what I was going to do. I could be happy to live in Thailand but unlike Cambodia, there are lots of hoops to jump through to get a long-term visa. I started to look more closely at the options. I am entitled to apply for a retirement visa and if I stay here with one I would want to study Thai language just as I studied Khmer in Cambodia. I have discovered that if I enrol for a full-year Thai-language course I can apply for an education visa which is simpler. I am now working through that process. I'll let you know what develops.
Labels: Asia, Cambodia, Kompong Chhnang, noise, thailand
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Noise pollution
A few blogs back I listed some of the challenges that might be found when living in Cambodia. For me the most difficult one is fortunately only an occasional one. There is a tradition in Cambodia that weddings and funerals are celebrated with noise at such an uncomfortable level that I can't see that it can possibly be enjoyable to anyone.
No one has ever told me that when there is such a celebration taking place near their home they say something like, 'Oh goodie. Now I can enjoy a few days of loud distorted music, speeches and monks chanting.'
If it benefits no one, then why does it continue? My only explanation is that it is also a part of Cambodian culture that no one should question or challenge anything. Obviously history provides contradictions to this. Pol Pol and his accomplices must have questioned the status quo prior to their ascendancy. But when they came to power it seems that no one questioned or challenged them, at least not successfully. It took an invasion from an external power to unseat them.
I have been fortunate that no one has seen fit to marry or die in my neighbourhood since my recent arrival here—until today. Actually the celebrations started yesterday afternoon. Fortunately yesterday the volume of the music was kept to an almost bearable level and they turned it off early in the evening. However they started again this morning at full blast, probably about 200 decibels, before 6 am. At least I can be thankful that they didn't start up earlier. 5 am is not unusual here in Kompong Chhnang.
To some extent I was prepared. When I chose this room I selected one that is half way down the building and so protected from noise invasion on three sides. I have earplugs from Australia. I was not able to buy any in Cambodia last year—no one knew what I was talking about. I have an iPod and a set of expensive Bose headphones.
After I was woken first I tried the earplugs. These are good quality mouldable earplugs, rated for about 30 decibels. They made almost no distinguishable difference. Without connecting the iPod I put on the headphones on top of the earplugs. With the combination of the two the difference was discernible but the noise was still too loud to allow me to go back to sleep. I removed the earplugs and plugged the headphones into some music. This was the best combination. It didn't drown the external noise but gave me something more pleasant to concentrate on. I am careful to use my iPod at only half volume. These things have the power to damage hearing just as I'm sure the speakers outside are doing for anyone stupid enough to get close—that's all the wedding guests.
By about 9.45 am, I'd done my usual morning rituals, breakfasted and done my chores and they'd got on to the speeches. Some woman was sounding off in a fiery manner but my ability with Khmer language is not yet good enough for me to benefit from her wisdom. I headed off to the internet cafe. It's at least a kilometre away. Maybe it'd be quieter there. Unfortunately it was not open. Not sure what time it does. I returned to my room. Speeches were still being broadcast but at least the noise had been toned down a little. As I write, just before midday, I can hear something in the distance but it is at a bearable level—no worse than your teenage neighbour would do when his parents are out. I don't expect it'll stay that way. If they follow the traditions it'll be loud into the night this evening and start again tomorrow morning early. I've got my iPod battery fully charged. Hopefully I'm prepared.
* * *
This morning I rang Esther, my Khmer teacher, and suggested she think about another venue for my lesson this afternoon. Esther lives directly behind the house where the wedding was taking place. By time I headed off for the lesson I realised this was not necessary. As I was walking down the street I could see that all the hired chairs, equipment and speakers were being loaded onto a truck. Wow, they had finished the wedding already. I won't have to put up with it any more today and tomorrow.
Esther confirmed that the wedding had in fact finished this morning apparently because the family is quite poor. The toned-down noise I could hear this morning was a funeral a little further away. I've also learned that the reason the internet cafe was closed was that the staff all attended the wedding.
No one has ever told me that when there is such a celebration taking place near their home they say something like, 'Oh goodie. Now I can enjoy a few days of loud distorted music, speeches and monks chanting.'
If it benefits no one, then why does it continue? My only explanation is that it is also a part of Cambodian culture that no one should question or challenge anything. Obviously history provides contradictions to this. Pol Pol and his accomplices must have questioned the status quo prior to their ascendancy. But when they came to power it seems that no one questioned or challenged them, at least not successfully. It took an invasion from an external power to unseat them.
I have been fortunate that no one has seen fit to marry or die in my neighbourhood since my recent arrival here—until today. Actually the celebrations started yesterday afternoon. Fortunately yesterday the volume of the music was kept to an almost bearable level and they turned it off early in the evening. However they started again this morning at full blast, probably about 200 decibels, before 6 am. At least I can be thankful that they didn't start up earlier. 5 am is not unusual here in Kompong Chhnang.
To some extent I was prepared. When I chose this room I selected one that is half way down the building and so protected from noise invasion on three sides. I have earplugs from Australia. I was not able to buy any in Cambodia last year—no one knew what I was talking about. I have an iPod and a set of expensive Bose headphones.
After I was woken first I tried the earplugs. These are good quality mouldable earplugs, rated for about 30 decibels. They made almost no distinguishable difference. Without connecting the iPod I put on the headphones on top of the earplugs. With the combination of the two the difference was discernible but the noise was still too loud to allow me to go back to sleep. I removed the earplugs and plugged the headphones into some music. This was the best combination. It didn't drown the external noise but gave me something more pleasant to concentrate on. I am careful to use my iPod at only half volume. These things have the power to damage hearing just as I'm sure the speakers outside are doing for anyone stupid enough to get close—that's all the wedding guests.
By about 9.45 am, I'd done my usual morning rituals, breakfasted and done my chores and they'd got on to the speeches. Some woman was sounding off in a fiery manner but my ability with Khmer language is not yet good enough for me to benefit from her wisdom. I headed off to the internet cafe. It's at least a kilometre away. Maybe it'd be quieter there. Unfortunately it was not open. Not sure what time it does. I returned to my room. Speeches were still being broadcast but at least the noise had been toned down a little. As I write, just before midday, I can hear something in the distance but it is at a bearable level—no worse than your teenage neighbour would do when his parents are out. I don't expect it'll stay that way. If they follow the traditions it'll be loud into the night this evening and start again tomorrow morning early. I've got my iPod battery fully charged. Hopefully I'm prepared.
* * *
This morning I rang Esther, my Khmer teacher, and suggested she think about another venue for my lesson this afternoon. Esther lives directly behind the house where the wedding was taking place. By time I headed off for the lesson I realised this was not necessary. As I was walking down the street I could see that all the hired chairs, equipment and speakers were being loaded onto a truck. Wow, they had finished the wedding already. I won't have to put up with it any more today and tomorrow.
Esther confirmed that the wedding had in fact finished this morning apparently because the family is quite poor. The toned-down noise I could hear this morning was a funeral a little further away. I've also learned that the reason the internet cafe was closed was that the staff all attended the wedding.
Labels: Asia, Cambodia, earphones, Kompong Chhnang, noise
